There's Nothing I'd Put in Front of You
by genevra1676
Summary: After Sam learned about Dean's true nature and they both admitted their feelings for each other, the boys have been hunting and exploring their new relationship. They're now on their way to tell Bobby about Dean's secret. The boys must deal Bobby's reaction, unknown aspects of their relationship, and the fallout of a traumatic event . . . Part 2 of THE MONSTER THAT YOU KNOW
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Oh God, Dean! Please, I need more! Harder . . . faster . . . _anything_!" I tugged futilely at the padded leather cuffs binding me to the headboard.

My big brother smiled down at me. "Patience, my young apprentice. If you keep struggling, I'm gonna stop!" He continued to roll his hips and squeeze himself around my cock leisurely, his channel still slick with my semen and his own fluids.

Dean might prefer bottoming, but he was in no way a passive or submissive partner. He'd tackled me onto the bed and brought both of us to climax fairly rapidly once we'd returned to the motel room after dinner. It wasn't until he'd coaxed me into the handcuffs that the true torment began. He'd been bringing me to the edge of orgasm and then backing off for what seemed like hours. He'd teased initially with only hands and mouth and then lowered himself onto my shaft and rode it slowly and steadily, occasionally increasing his pace just enough to bring me to the brink over and over again.

" _Deeean_ , come on! You're killing me here," I whined in my best needy little-brother voice, prepared to break out the puppy eyes if this didn't work.

"Poor Sammy, what a way to go!" The heartless bastard laughed at me, big green eyes sparkling.

But soon after, the other man decided to be merciful and sped up his movement, lifting up and slamming back down on my member with growing urgency. He didn't protest as I began thrusting up, just gasped appreciatively whenever I grazed his prostate. My breathing grew labored as his inner muscles tightened around me repeatedly, and I eventually gave a shout and spurted into him. He rocked against me a couple more times before cumming himself.

"You are _such_ an asshole!" I panted.

"World's smallest violin, man," Dean replied. He wiped his cum off of my stomach and then licked his fingers clean one by one. My cock gave a twitch inside him at the sight. His full lips curved in a smirk before he leaned forward and undid the cuffs around my wrists.

The moment I was free, I growled, grabbed his waist, and quickly rolled both of us over. I flipped him onto his belly and gave his ass a slap. "My turn now! On your knees," I ordered.

"What, no please? Such a pushy little brother, ain't ya?" he said. Despite the snark, he quickly complied, arching his broad, freckled back and raising his firm, curved ass in the air. His hole was red and puffy from our earlier exertions, with a bit of semen trickling out.

I stroked my cock a few times and then took a firm grip on his hips and rammed myself all the way in. My brother moaned wantonly and pushed back against me, pressing his shoulders and face further into the bed. I pounded into him hard and fast, hitting his prostate on nearly every pass. He cried out and rocked his pelvis back with each thrust. Being inside Dean like this was intoxicating—feeling how hot, tight, and wet his passage was, feeling his talented inner walls pulsating against my cock, feeling his hips moving in sync with mine. If I somehow ever got to choose what my Heaven was going to be, it would probably be this.

I continued plunging into the smaller man, snapping my hips against his buttocks. He soon shuddered and clamped around me as he came, though I could tell he hadn't ejaculated. This had confused me the first time it happened, until some Google-fu informed me that prostate and anal orgasms were in fact a thing. I kept moving, surging into the smaller man as hard and deep as I could. It wasn't long before he shouted and shook through another climax.

"Come on, Sam, enough! Can't take much more," Dean gasped, his voice roughened.

"Consider this payback for earlier! And I'm sure you've got one more in you!"

I drove into his channel over and over and listened to him keen in pleasure. I eventually reached under him and grasped his cock, sliding my hand over it in time with my thrusts. The added stimulation was enough to tip him over one last time, and I felt a small amount of cum jet against my fingers as he clenched hard around my shaft. I groaned and shot my load into him with few more strokes. I wrapped an arm around my lover's waist and pulled him against me as I fell back against the pillows, both of us dripping with sweat.

"Okay, dude, you win this time. I think you managed to fuck me stupid," he said, lolling his head against my shoulder, long lashes fluttering as his eyes drifted halfway shut.

I smiled smugly as a purr began to rumble through his chest. My bossy older brother would never admit it, but he loved it when I pounded him into the mattress like this. He looked thoroughly debauched—normally fair skin flushed, dark gold hair tousled and damp with sweat, lush mouth swollen from kissing, green eyes blown and heavy. His passage still quivered faintly around my cock, and I could feel my cum dripping down his thighs.

As we tried to catch our breaths, I reflected on how different the past few weeks had been. Everything seemed better now than it had in a long time, even with the Apocalypse looming over us. Despite all the external problems we still had to deal with, we both were more relaxed and genuinely _happy_ now than I could remember either of us being since we were kids.

It started the night I discovered that the man lying beside me wasn't my biological brother. That the original Dean Winchester died the same night as Mom, and that my father, out of his head with grief, coerced a shapeshifter child soon after into taking his dead son's place. That the young shifter grew up beside me and helped raise me, and that he and Dad kept the truth from me until the night I caught him shedding his skin after a bad hunt. The way I reacted initially still made me writhe in shame, though fortunately I came to my senses before anything irrevocable happened. That was the same night that we admitted that our feelings for each other were more than fraternal and became lovers as well as brothers and hunting partners.

Since then, there'd been a number of positive changes in our lives. For one, Dean was freer about using his abilities, at least in front of me. I'd witnessed him make small changes to his appearance to avoid recognition, grow fangs and claws when going toe-to-toe with a monster, and reduce his size to fit through small spaces or get out of bindings. I learned that part of his almost uncanny knack of identifying the bad guy was due to his enhanced senses, now that he no longer had to be subtle about their use around me. One major bone of contention between us as a result, however, was his even more egregious tendency to throw himself between me and danger. His reasoning was that he healed faster and was harder to kill, but I worried that he sometimes forgot that he wasn't indestructible.

More importantly, my brother was much more open now. He still presented the façade of the charming rogue or tough hunter to others, but with me he was so much more candid than before. We'd both promised to no longer keep anything important hidden from each other, and he'd been good so far at trying to let me know how he really felt or when something was bothering him. And while he was rarely given to verbally expressing his feelings about me, he turned out to be surprisingly very physically affectionate, even accepting the occasional PDA as long as we weren't "on the job" or around anyone who knew who we really were.

Then there was the difference in our physical relationship. Namely, _lots and lots_ of sex—almost every day, usually several times in one day. Even on nights when we were tired or banged up after a hunt, we still managed to squeeze in some making out and a slow hand- or blowjob. And it was almost always more than simply fucking, with long bouts of kissing, caressing, and worshipping each other's body leading up to the actual intercourse. I felt like a horny teenager much of the time, though I never saw this much action when I actually was that age.

Right now though, I was replete and more than content to lie beside my brother, my lover. I buried my nose in his soft hair and inhaled his musky scent. Being with him like this was the closest I'd ever had to a sense of _home_. I placed a hand over his heart, just below his tattoo, and pressed a gentle kiss into his temple.

"Wish I could stay like this forever, Dee—beside you, _inside_ you," I murmured into his ear.

Dean stretched languidly in my arms. "I hear ya, baby boy. Unfortunately, the world ain't gonna save itself, and Bobby would kick our fucking asses if we dumped it all on him. Tell you what though, once we've got this Apocalypse shit in the bag, we're gonna take a nice long vacation. At least a week in someplace warm and secluded, and we can spend as much time as we want screwing each other on every surface in the place."

"That's the one thing that's gonna really suck about being at Bobby's—we're going to barely be able to _touch_ each other there. It's gonna feel like _forever_!" I could hear the whine creeping back in my voice.

My brother groaned. "Don't remind me, man! Though a terminal case of blue balls is safer than trying anything under his roof and risk getting caught. We'll just hafta take a buncha long drives or something to get some alone time."

He wriggled against me and carefully pulled himself off my cock. "In the meantime, it's your turn for clean-up duty. I'm pretty sure you broke everything on me from the ass down!"

"Bitch, bitch, bitch. It's not my fault if you can't hack it, old man!"

I darted from the bed just ahead of his vengeful lunge and locked myself in the bathroom, snickering. We might be lovers now, but I was still a little brother. It occurred to me as I wiped myself down that we'd both been laughing more in the past six weeks than we had in the past four years. I was still smiling as I emerged from the bathroom with a wet washcloth.

The smile turned into a smirk at Dean's irked expression. I could almost visualize the laid-back ears and lashing tail. He would probably noogie me into oblivion if I ever said this aloud, but ever since the big reveal I'd begun to notice that some of his behavior was decidedly _feline_. In addition to the post-coital purring and the tendency to bring claws to a fist fight, there was his hedonism, his fastidiousness, his fondness for naps, his (former) tom-catting with attractive members of either sex wherever we went, his vehement avoidance of anything resembling a vegetable unless it was a burger topping or a French fry, and his tendency to taunt and play with his prey, whether they be vamps or drunks in a barroom brawl.

I resisted the urge to scratch my brother behind the ears, not wanting him to attempt to rearrange my face. Instead, I bent down and kissed him tenderly. His lips remained stiff at first, then softened and opened up under mine.

"Hmph, you're lucky you're cute," he said after I carefully swabbed his groin and between his legs. He pulled me down beside him. "Come back to bed, doofus."

I tossed the soiled washcloth in the direction of the bathroom and looked over the other man anxiously. As much as we both enjoyed it when I got forceful in bed, I never wanted to hurt him. We experienced pain too frequently while hunting, and I didn't want to bring it into our love-making.

"Are you okay? I wasn't too rough, was I?"

"I'm _fine_ , and you were great. I ain't fragile. Don't worry so much, man." He kissed me softly before settling against my chest and wrapping an arm around my waist. "Go to sleep, kiddo."

Sleeping together was high on my list of favorite things about our new relationship. Growing up, we'd always shared a bed until I was almost twelve, when Dad decided we were too old for that. Even then, we still slept together fairly frequently, when he was away on hunts or when the motel room that the three of us were crammed into didn't have a cot or couch. But we'd been getting separate beds since Dean and I started hunting together, mostly because I no longer had the excuse of teenage hormones to cover any embarrassing—and revealing—physical reactions. I didn't realize how much I'd missed the intimacy of going to bed wrapped in each other's arms, hearing each other's heartbeat and feeling each other's breath, until we started again.

I curled up around him, pulling the sheets up over us. "Love you, big brother."

"Back at you, little brother."

I awoke the next morning to my brother's pink lips wrapped around my cock as he hummed _Stairway to Heaven_. I groaned appreciatively and dug my hands into his short hair. It had taken quite a bit of practice and willpower over the past few weeks to not climax immediately when he started humming around me like that, though I was pretty sure I was developing a kink about Led Zeppelin. But with the sneaky bastard catching me while only half-awake, I found myself cumming after only a couple of minutes.

"Dammit, Dee, that was too fast!" I complained after I caught my breath.

"And good morning to you too! Thought we'd try to squeeze in another round or two before heading to Bobby's." Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows as he crawled up the bed and leaned in for a kiss. His mouth tasted more minty than tangy, suggesting that he'd taken the time to wash up before sucking my brains out through my cock.

"Well, it certainly was a better wake-up call than the damn alarm clock. Want me to return the favor?" I slid a hand down to his cock as I spoke.

"Sam, when have I ever turned down head?"

"Umm, when you want my cock in your ass instead?"

"Touché. And I may take you up on that later. But for right now . . ." He pushed his groin insistently against my hand.

I wrapped my fingers around his member and stroked it quickly as I positioned myself between his legs with my head resting on a muscular thigh. I licked at the head and slit before taking as much of him as I could into my mouth. I might not have the other man's level of control over my gag reflex, but I'd been working on how much I could swallow down. As I sucked and nibbled up and down his shaft, I reached back to slip two fingers into his entrance and began massaging his prostate. His channel was already slick and as taut and heated as always, and I felt my cock begin to perk up.

Dean started to thrust gently into my mouth and tug on my hair. He gasped and moaned as my mouth and fingers moved faster, and his hips sped up to keep pace. I choked a bit as his cock hit the back of my throat, my lips wet with saliva. He pulled back with a whispered apology but kept moving, fucking himself forward into my mouth and backward onto my fingers. I brought my other hand up and ran my nails over his scrotum and perineum. He stiffened at that and grasped my head tightly as he ejaculated, filling my mouth with his salty cum.

I didn't swallow but instead reached up and drew him into a kiss, opening my mouth so that he could lap up his own seed. We exchanged a few more deep kisses before I pulled away.

"Sorry for the lack of foreplay this time, but if we stay here too long, we won't get to Bobby's house in time for dinner," I said.

"No complaints here, man." He gave my hair one last tug before carefully unwinding his fingers. "Wanna join me in the shower? We can save time _and_ conserve water!"

I eyed his ass appreciatively as he walked into the bathroom. "I doubt this is going to save us time, since you _know_ we won't just be showering."

"Whatever, dude! Just get in here!" He turned on the water and stepped in the shower.

The room was already steaming up when I got in with him. This wasn't the tiniest shower we'd ever been in, but it was still a tight fit for two tall, broad-shouldered guys. The showerhead barely cleared the top of Dean's head, which was a bit of a surprise—usually we both had to duck to fit under these things.

My brother was standing under the spray, face upturned and eyes closed, the water darkening his hair to shining bronze, glistening on his lean muscles and fair skin, clinging to his long lashes and the soft curls around his member. One hand was slowly rubbing a bar of soap across his broad chest and down his flat stomach. Green eyes opened and smiled up at me as I placed my hands on his narrow hips, my thumbs slotting into the V leading to his groin.

I pushed the smaller man back until the water hit my chest. He lathered up a washcloth and caressed my pectoral and abdominal muscles with his hands and the soapy cloth. I dipped my head to wet my hair and kissed him, slipping my tongue in his mouth when his lips parted. As our tongues danced around each other, he stepped closer, curled his hands around my shoulder, and began rubbing our cocks together. We rutted against each other for several moments, our breathing growing heavier and our kisses more frantic.

I managed to pull my mouth away to whisper in his ear, "Not that this isn't great, but wasn't there something earlier about wanting my cock in your ass?"

My lover's eyes lit up. "See, this is why you're the brains of our operation!"

He swiftly turned around and placed his hands against the shower wall, leaning forward and hitching his pelvis up. He looked over his shoulder at me enticingly. "Waiting for an invitation or something?"

I slipped a finger into his entrance first to make sure he was wet enough before putting both hands back on his hips. As I slid inside, we both sighed and slowly rocked our hips together. He rested his head against his hands and gently squeezed and relaxed his inner muscles around me. I kissed his nape while moving both hands leisurely, one going down to rub his cock, the other up to stroke his chest.

As much as I enjoyed taking the other man hard and fast, there was something to be said about going slow and easy like this. The heat of the water around us couldn't compete with the heat of his taut, silken channel as I slid in and out in long strokes. I could feel the purr reverberating through his chest as we moved languidly in time with each other.

However, I soon realized that the hot water in this place wouldn't last long. I increased the pace of my thrusts until the shower echoed with the sound of my hips slapping against my brother's ass. He braced against the wall and pushed back hard against my cock.

"Oh yeah, Sammy, that's good!" Dean moaned enthusiastically. "Can feel your dick _all_ the way in!"

"Come on, Dee, need you to cum first!" I panted.

I bit down on his shoulder as I jacked his shaft faster and plunged into his passage harder. He groaned over and over again as I kept moving. Shortly after, his inner walls clenched around me and his cock jerked in my hand as he climaxed, his seed streaking the shower wall. I pushed deep inside him twice more before cumming with a shout.

I leaned against him for a moment before gently pulling away. We hurriedly finished washing each other off and got out of the shower just as the water turned cold. We then took turns toweling the other dry and exchanging lazy kisses.

"When we go on that warm, secluded vacation, we're staying at a _really_ nice hotel that has huge showers and unlimited hot water and big, soft towels," I stated as I stepped out of the bathroom and went to my bag to get dressed.

After examining the state of most of my clothes, I added, "Looks like laundry is going to be one of our first orders of business when we get to Bobby's place."

"Assuming that we don't get chased off with a shotgun after dropping this fucking bomb on him," my brother said gloomily while pulling on jeans and a snug t-shirt.

"Don't be so pessimistic, man. Bobby loves us, especially you. And if he can forgive me for releasing Lucifer, I don't think he'll hold this against you." I patted him on the shoulder in encouragement.

"Hope you're right. Right now though, let's grab our gear and get outta here. I wanna get to Sioux Falls before it's ass o'clock tonight."

Suiting actions to words, we swiftly packed our bags and left the motel room behind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

On our way out of the small town of Cripple Creek, Colorado, Dean pulled into a diner for breakfast. He always had an unerring nose for sniffing out every greasy spoon, cheap motel, and dive bar in whatever place we were staying at. The Impala rumbled up to the curb, and he eyed the stone and chrome exterior eagerly.

"We got time for a pit stop before hitting the road?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure, Dean." My brother was worse than a cranky toddler when he was hungry, so the delay was worth staving off the whining later. And this place looked fairly clean if rather small.

We went inside and took a booth along the front with a clear view of the door. The waitress who came up to our table was blonde and perky, and her eyes lit up when they fell upon Dean. "How are you doing today, and what can I get you, sugar?" she practically purred.

He admired her chest under the guise of reading her name tag. "We're doing just fine, Christy. Even better now that you're here," he said with a slow smile, looking up at her through impossibly long lashes. "I'll have the special with extra bacon, a side of pancakes, and coffee, darling. Princess Sammy here will have oatmeal with brown sugar and raisins, a bowl of mixed fruit, and orange juice."

"Coming right up, then," she cooed before sashaying off.

I'd given the other man a brief bitch-face when he called me princess but tried not to react as he unabashedly watched her ass wiggle away. We'd never discussed exclusivity, even though I had absolutely no interest in anyone else. Dean ogled and hit on attractive members of both sexes just as much as he always had, and my inner caveman wanted to pull him away and mark my territory every time he did. The more evolved portions of my brain noted that his flirtation no longer had any more intent behind it than getting information or free drinks and was willing to trust in his loyalty.

He turned back towards me with a smirk. "Nice scenery around here, right?"

"You're _such_ an idiot, Dean. Though at least you're in a better mood now."

"Yeah, I decided that you're right—I need to trust Bobby. Just need to figure out how to do this. I mean, I've never actually _told_ anyone 'bout this before."

"It's your call, so do what feels right. However you choose to handle it, I'll back your play."

He made a noncommittal noise as he peeled the paper band off of his silverware. He proceeded to fold it into an origami frog and hop it around the table, while I checked the news on my phone. He'd flicked the frog at my phone for the third time, and I was just about to squash it, when Christy arrived with our food.

"Do you need anything el—Oh, that froggy is so _cuuute_!" she gushed.

"You like it, sweetheart? It's all yours then." Dean showed her how to make it move, taking great pleasure in putting his hands over hers to demonstrate the correct flicking motion.

"Could she be any blonder?" I asked snidely once she'd left.

"Be nice, Sam. Not everyone is gifted with a super nerd-brain like yours." With that, he dove into the pile of grease and starch in front of him masquerading as a breakfast.

"How is it that you're not four hundred pounds from eating all that crap?" I asked as I ate my meal at a more sedate pace.

"Faster metabolism," he replied smugly before stuffing an entire sausage link in his mouth. "Don' be uh hatuh!"

I rolled my eyes at his eating habits as he continued to demolish his food, accompanied by almost pornographic happy noises. "Dude, do you need some alone time with that plate?"

"It's not my fault if you can't appreciate properly-fried pork products, man." He pushed his plate away with a satisfied belch, grinning at my disgusted expression.

Our waitress returned as I was finishing my fruit. She cleared away the soiled dishes and leaned over to refill Dean's coffee, blatantly flashing her cleavage. "Are you _sure_ you don't need _anything_ else, sugar?"

He smiled up at her again. "You've been an absolute peach, darling. But unfortunately, me and Sammy gotta get going. Heading out to visit my uncle, you understand?"

After she left our booth, my brother dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table, stood, and stretched. As we were leaving, he proudly showed me the check, which clearly did not charge us for his coffee and which had her name and phone number—complete with a heart in place of the dot over the "i"—on the reverse side. Both the possessive and rational sides of my brain were pleased when he surreptitiously crumpled it up and tossed it in the trashcan outside the door, and even more so when he kissed me in clear view of the diner windows before getting in the car.

"Happy now? Or do you need to piss on me or something, Tonda?" he teased.

"Shuddup!" I slouched down in the passenger seat, embarrassed and content at the same time.

He laughed and popped _Back in Black_ into the tape deck. As he drove, he occasionally drummed on the steering wheel and sang along, intentionally slightly off-key in an attempt to annoy me. I just smiled whenever he did that. These, along with the flirting and enjoyment of his food earlier, were signs of a happy Dean, signs that had become more common over the last few weeks but were sadly infrequent before that. I was willing to put up with quite a bit to keep them coming.

We pulled into the salvage yard less than ten hours after leaving the diner, thanks to my brother's cavalier disregard for speed limits. Bobby wheeled onto the porch to greet us, presumably having heard the Impala's engine as we drove up. Being the paranoid old coot that he was, the greeting included holy water and silver as always. I suppressed a sardonic smile at the sight of Dean cutting on his forearm with the silver knife without a reaction.

Those pleasantries out of the way, Bobby beckoned us forward. "Well, come on in! Got a pot of chili been simmering on the stove all afternoon. I reckon there's enough fixings left to feed you both."

As we followed the older man into the house, a pang of guilt went through my chest again at the sight of him in the wheelchair. I know my brother felt responsible because Bobby had inflicted the wound on himself to keep from hurting Dean. But he wouldn't have been possessed in the first place if I hadn't let Lucifer out of the Cage, so the blame for his injury fell squarely on me. And unless Cas somehow got his mojo back, there wasn't anything we could do to fix the situation.

Dean inhaled deeply as we entered the kitchen, after dropping our bags off in the guest bedroom we usually shared. "Man, Bobby, that chili smells _awesome_!"

Bobby smacked my brother's hand when he tried to reach for the pot lid. "Keep your mitts off, idjit—that's hot! So what have you boys been up to? Haven't seen you two since the thing . . . the thing with my wife."

As we devoured bowls of chili, we described the hunts we'd been on in the past few months, the trip to Heaven and back, and a couple futile attempts at research into a way to defeat Lucifer. Dean was trying to act normal, but I could tell that he was nervous. I wanted to put my hands on him in reassurance, but we were trying to avoid any unnecessary physical contact in the older hunter's presence.

After cleaning up, we made our way into the study. The two of us sat on the bed in the bay window while Bobby headed over to one of the bookshelves. We were sitting close enough that our thighs brushed together, but I assumed that didn't look too out-of-the-ordinary.

Dean cleared his throat as the older man reached for a book. "Hey Bobby, can you wait a minute? I've got—I've got something I need to tell you." He moved restlessly in his seat and twined and untwined his hands.

Bobby wheeled closer, looking curiously at Dean's anxious fidgeting. "What's up, kid?"

My brother sighed heavily. "Man, I don't know how to begin . . . Okay, well, there's this secret that I've been keeping for a long time now, and . . . and I thought that it's not right to hide it from you anymore. So—"

Bobby held up a hand. "Son, if this is about how you like boys just as much as girls, I figured _that_ out 'bout as soon as you hit puberty."

Dean turned bright red, and I couldn't help but let out a snicker at his flummoxed expression. "What! No! I mean, yeah, I _do_ . . . but that's not what I'm trying to tell you! Sonofabitch, this shit is hard!"

"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt then. Go ahead and take as much time as you need to tell me."

"Umm, okay . . . Before I get into it, I want you to understand that I'm still _me_ , not some kind of imposter. I'm still the kid you taught how to throw a football and strip a carburetor. But I . . . well, I ain't actually human, and I never was.

"You see, Mom wasn't the only one who died the night of the fire back in Lawrence. Little Dean went back in the house to look for Mom and Dad after carrying Sammy out, and he—he didn't make it. So Dad was basically by himself, trying to take care of a baby, figure out what happened to Mom, and learn how to hunt, and it ain't a big surprise that he went off the reservation a little. 'Bout three months after losing practically everything, he took out this shifter. When he went back to its hideout, he found it had a kid—me.

"And instead of ganking me 'cause I was a fucking monster, he gave me the choice to become his son—become Dean—and help him take care of and protect Sam. 'Course I didn't wanna die, but it was more than that. My life up to that point had been pretty shitty—like most of the shifters we've met so far, my parent was seriously cuckoo for Coco Puffs. So Dad was offering me a way _out_ , a way to become something _better_ , and I took it. Everything after that is pretty much the same as what you already know."

Bobby's brows had been drawing in as Dean spoke, and he looked pissed. "Is this supposed to be some kinda joke? 'Cause it sure as hell ain't funny! I just saw you cut yourself with a silver knife not more than an hour ago, and now you're trying to convince me you've been a shapeshifter all along? I wasn't born yesterday, boy!"

Dean sighed again. "I knew this wasn't gonna be easy. You want proof? Okay, here you go!"

There was a faint ripple, somewhat like the effect the _X-Men_ movies used for Mystique, and suddenly seated next to me was my . . . sister? She looked to be two to three inches shorter than Dean's usual height, and some curves were visible despite the too-large clothes. Her hair now fell in tawny waves past her shoulders. The large, long-lashed green eyes, plush, pink lips, high, sharp cheekbones, and fair, freckled skin were the same, while the rest of her features were a smaller, softer version of his.

My cock took an abrupt interest in the change. My brother had always been a stunning man, and he apparently made an equally gorgeous woman. I had to concentrate on the memory of the last decomposing corpse we'd salted and burned to prevent an embarrassingly noticeable physical reaction.

Meanwhile, Dean looked down at herself and poked a breast. "Huh! You'd think they'd be bigger!" she commented in a husky alto.

" _Dean!_ " I hissed.

She looked up, startled. "What? Oh, right." The ripple appeared again, and Dean was back to his normal self.

Throughout all this, Bobby had sat wide-eyed and pale. His hand had made an aborted move towards the back of his waistband at the initial change but stopped at the woman's absurdly Dean-like behavior. He shuddered slightly when she changed back, and then looked at me suspiciously.

I guessed what he was thinking and held up my hands placatingly. "I'm still human, Bobby. No big surprises here."

The older man didn't seem mollified, so I carefully leaned over and handed him two things. One was a handful of old, creased papers. The other was our father's hunting journal.

"Those are pages torn from the beginning of Dad's journal," I said. "You've looked through the journal often enough to recognize it and know it's not something that could be counterfeited easily. You can see that the handwriting on those pages matches the rest of the journal and that the torn edges match the stubs in the beginning of the book. The entries go from just after the fire to a little past when Dad found Dean, and you'll see they corroborate what my brother told you."

"Dad tore 'em out not long after that last entry 'cause he didn't want anyone else reading 'em and finding out the truth 'bout me," Dean added. "He gave 'em to me later in case someone _did_ find out, so I could prove who I really was."

"And if that's still not enough, I'm sure you've got the works around here for a truth spell or two," I said. "Feel free to cast it on either or both of us."

The other hunter moved to behind his desk to examine the journal pages. I calmly stood and placed myself between him and my brother while he read.

Dean frowned up at me. "Sam, what the hell are you doing?"

"If you don't think Bobby has silver bullets in his desk, you don't know him that well. Call this a necessary precaution until I know he's not going to overreact."

"Dude, it's _Bobby_! He ain't gonna shoot me! Weren't _you_ the one reassuring me just this morning? Now sit your gigantor ass down."

"I was, and I'm pretty sure I'm right. But I'm not risking you on a 'pretty sure,' Dee," I replied, crossing my arms stubbornly.

"How 'bout both of you chuckleheads pipe down?" Bobby asked drily as he put the pages down. "Your story is pretty far out there, but . . . hell, I believe you. I know this certainly ain't like any shifter scam that I've ever heard of! If you're still the same boy I helped raise, then I guess it don't matter to me if you're human or not. But I still got some questions."

My brother pulled me back down beside him before answering. "I figured you would. Shoot, Bobby."

"First off, explain how you were able to cut yourself with that silver knife without burning or nothing?"

"Dad helped me build up some immunity. He started when I was a little older, old enough to help him out and therefore more likely to come up on other hunters' radar. We started small—he stuck me with a silver pin and left it in as long as I could stand, then worked up to longer times, more pins, and so on. Hurt like you wouldn't believe, but it got the job done. So skin contact and minor wounds don't burn anymore. Added side benefit was that it _really_ improved my pain tolerance," Dean explained with a crooked smile.

Bobby looked horrified. "John did that to you?"

"No, man, Dad did that _for_ me. He was trying to keep me safe. He didn't wanna risk another hunter finding out what I am, especially seeing how most of 'em are the 'shoot first and ask questions later' type. We both felt a little pain was worth that."

"I see what you're saying, though doing something like that to a kid, even if it was for your own benefit, still don't sit right. I gotta say, one of the most incredible parts to all this is the idea of your dad, who always seemed firmly in the 'anything supernatural is evil' camp, taking in a shapeshifter. I understand he wasn't exactly thinking clearly when he first found you, but still . . . How was he with you when I wasn't around? Did he—did he treat you . . . alright?"

"He treated me like his son," Dean said firmly. "Yeah, in the beginning he was more concerned with whether I was gonna pull a Damien on him. But once he was convinced that I wasn't like that, and that I was happy to be with him and Sammy, well, it was all different. I know Dad wouldn't win any Father of the Year awards, but he did the best he could by me as well as Sam. He and Sam are the main reasons I didn't turn out like those other shifters—they gave me an identity and a _family_.

"I used to wonder sometimes if he really cared for me as much as he did Sam, not being his real son and all. But then he sold his damn soul to save me, and you can't ask for a clearer answer than that! I hope Dad knew how much he meant to me." He fell silent. I put a hand on his knee and squeezed reassuringly.

Bobby looked over at me. "How about you, Sam? Did you know this whole time?"

I shook my head. "I only found out a few weeks ago. Dean got badly hurt during that wendigo hunt in Idaho and needed to shift to heal. I followed him when he snuck out of our motel room and caught him pulling his skin off and burning it. I'm afraid I—I didn't react well. I'm still deeply ashamed of how badly I behaved that night." I hunched my shoulders and dropped my head, staring at my hands.

"Here we go again!" Dean turned towards me and grabbed me by the shoulders. "You gotta let this go, kiddo. Yeah, you freaked out and acted like kinda a douche for a couple hours. But we worked it out, and we're even better now than we were before. I forgave you that night, and you need to forgive yourself." He shook me gently.

"I wasn't just 'kind of' a douche to you, Dee! I called you a _thing_ , treated you like shit, and could've shot you! I ignored everything you've done for me, acted like your feelings weren't worth anything, and made you feel so bad you almost _killed_ yourself! I don't deserve to be forgiven so easily for that, just like I don't deserve to be forgiven for everything with Ruby, especially breaking the last Seal and start—"

He shook me again, harder this time. "Quit it, Sam! That shit wasn't all your fault! You got played _hard_ for years by the fucking demons _and_ the damn God squad—hell, we all did! And my hands ain't exactly fucking clean either. I tortured souls while I was down below, remember, and I wasn't tricked into it."

"Only after you'd been tortured yourself by Hell's best interrogator for _thirty fucking years_! No one could be expected to withstand that!"

"Dad did, and he was on the rack for a whole hell of a lot longer than I was."

"Only according to Alistair, who was trying to break you and had every goddamn reason to _lie_. Don't you realize you were manipulated just as much as me? Me dying, you making the deal, you getting dragged down into Hell despite everything we tried, the demons working so hard to break you, the angels not showing up until it was too late—it was _all_ a fucking set-up! They needed _you_ to break the first Seal just as much as they needed _me_ to break the last.

"And all that _still_ doesn't excuse the fact that I behaved like an unmitigated ass that night. Like you keeping this secret was somehow worse than everything _I_ ever did, and you deserved to be hurt for it. There's no justification for how I treated you. It's like you told me right before I killed Lilith—I really _am_ a fucking monster!"

Dean looked puzzled. "Hold on a sec there, Sam! What are you talking 'bout? I know I said a lotta harsh things when I was trying to get you away from Ruby, but I never called you that!"

I stared at him, aghast. "You . . . you _forgot_? It was the worst thing you ever said to me, the thing that finally pushed me that last step into killing her, and you _don't remember_?"

When he continued to appear confused, I pulled out my phone and searched through my messages. I had initially saved it thinking to show Dean he was wrong about me; after he was proven right instead, I kept it to remind myself how badly I had failed. I pressed "Play" and held the phone towards him.

" _Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak! Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning—I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam, a vampire. You're not you anymore. And there's no going back."_

My brother's expression first turned shocked and then enraged. "Those fucking winged _douchebags_! Zachariah or one of those other dickless cowards must've changed my message!" He grabbed both of my wrists. "Sammy, I swear that _ain't_ what I said! The message I really left was that even though I was angry, we were still family and that I was sorry for acting like Dad. You gotta believe that I would _never_ say anything like that, and that I would _never_ give up on you!"

I studied his earnest face for a long moment, then dropped the phone and threw my arms around him. I buried my face in his shoulder and cried, releasing all the pent-up grief, guilt, and anger I'd been holding onto since first getting that voicemail. Dean rubbed my back and stroked my back, not saying a word.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Sorry to interrupt this Dr. Phil moment, but . . ."

I sat up and tried to compose myself, batting Dean's hands away when he tried to wipe my face with his sleeve. "Sorry about the meltdown, Bobby."

"It's alright, son. Perfectly understandable. But let's try to keep the waterworks down from here on, okay?" the older man said gruffly.

Dean put an arm around my shoulders, apparently deciding that comforting me took precedence over avoiding rousing the other hunter's suspicions, before looking at Bobby. "More questions, old man?"

Bobby shook his head as he wheeled out from behind the desk. "Not right now, kid. You two are probably beat from that long-ass drive, and I got a lot to consider. Why don't you call it a night, and we'll pick up tomorrow morning? I got a coupla new texts on this Apocalypse mess we can go through."

He headed over to the bookshelf he'd originally reached for as we stood, then turned towards us. "One last thing before you head up. Make sure you keep things quiet up in that room while you're here, understand? I ain't a prude, but I _don't_ wanna know what either of you sound like when you're doing the horizontal mambo!"

We both flushed beet-red and shot each other wide-eyed glances. I cleared my throat and attempted to seem casual as I said, "Not sure what you're talking about, man. It's not like either of us bring girls back here or anything."

Bobby snorted. "Please! Like I said before, I wasn't born yesterday. I watched you both grow up, and I know you better than anybody else does, including your daddy." He pointed at me. "So I knew right away when that hero worship you always had for your big brother turned into something more, right around when you turned thirteen.

"And it may have taken you longer," he now pointed at Dean. "But I could tell your feelings had become more than brotherly the first time you came back here after you started hunting together again. Then it was just a betting game on how long it'd take you idjits to figure out you felt the same way 'bout each other.

"Then you show up tonight, and it was pretty damn obvious. You first were trying almost _too_ hard to stay apart in the kitchen, but you couldn't help throw each other a coupla gooey-eyed looks. Then we come in here, and you get more touchy-feely in the past fifteen minutes than I've seen in years, not since before that uptight ass of a father of yours starting harping on you kids about that 'proper manly behavior' bullshit when Sam was twelve. Plus, both of you seem happier now than I've seen in a long time, even with the End of Days hanging over us."

Dean still looked flabbergasted as he asked, "And it don't bother you, this whole gay incest thing between us?"

"You should know me better than that, boy! Gay or straight or whatever don't matter to me, long as everyone's happy. And _technically_ what you've got ain't incest, since you ain't even the same species.

"But how you feel 'bout each other was almost inevitable, given how you were raised—barely on the edge of society, taught to trust no one outside of family, and all those long stretches with only each other for company. Your moron of a dad was practically shoving you boys into a V.C. Andrews novel! Add in this soulmate business, and well . . . It might not be right for most people, but for you two?" The older man shrugged casually, but his eyes were soft.

"Besides, why d'ya think I never changed out that big bed in your room for two doubles? So don't feel like you need to hold back on kissing or holding hands or any of that mushy crap on my account. Just keep anything adult-rated quiet and out-of-sight!"

"Thanks, Bobby. This means a _lot_ to us, you accepting our new relationship like this," I said.

"Yeah, I'm a regular Care Bear alright. Now scram so I can get some work done around here!"

"Yessir!" we said in unison. Dean then smiled mischievously and grabbed my ass. I yelped and chased him up the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Once we were in our room, Dean exclaimed, "Dude, I can't believe how awesome Bobby was about everything!"

I leaned against the closed door. "I know, right? Sometimes I wonder what we did to deserve him!"

He stepped closer and looked up at me through long lashes. "I did notice earlier that girl-me really caught Little Sam's attention. That something you wanna check out more?"

He had his usual cocky expression on, but I could see the uncertainty underneath. I understood how much of my brother's sense of self-worth relied on being perceived as _Dean_ by those around him, especially me. So no matter how intrigued I might be by his abilities, I knew better than to ask him to shift outside of what was necessary for the hunt. _Especially_ not during our intimate moments.

Thus, I responded easily, "You definitely turned into an amazingly attractive woman, Dee. But it's my gorgeous _brother_ that I'm in love with, and I don't see the need to change that."

His face relaxed into a more genuine smile, and he reached up to give me a deep kiss. "Okay, Sammy. Gimme a bit to clean up, and then we'll see if we can manage to stay quiet enough for Bobby."

He dug his shower bag out of his duffle and left the room. I smiled as I heard "It's Raining Men" belting out over the sound of the shower running, and Bobby shouting something about "Idjits!" from downstairs. I went into the bathroom myself to brush my teeth and wash my face, restraining the urge to join Dean in the shower. I also squashed the little-brother impulse to flush the toilet on him.

Back in the room, I retrieved a small drawstring pouch from my duffle after undressing and sat on the bed, contemplating it. It had only been a little more than two months since the incident, so I wasn't sure if this was still premature. However, everything had been going so well between us for the past few weeks, so I had to hope for the best.

My brother came into the room, a towel around his waist, and dumped his clothes on top of his bag. His eyes lit up as he took in my unclad state, and he dropped the towel as he approached. His face sobered as he took in my expression. "Something wrong, Sam?"

"No! I mean, I _hope_ not. I don't know if this is too soon or anything . . . But since things have been really good between us recently . . . I thought maybe you'll be willing to take this back now." I took a deep breath and handed him the pouch.

He opened it and dumped the contents onto his palm. He stared down at the small, horned brass amulet on its worn leather thong, not moving or speaking.

"I—I'm sorry! This—this was obviously a—a bad idea," I stammered after a couple minutes of silence.

Dean looked up at that. His green eyes were swimming with tears, and his full lower lip was quivering slightly. He wordlessly grasped the cord and tried to hand me back the amulet.

My heart sank. "You—you don't want it?"

He shook his head as he sat down beside me. "No, never that! Want _you_ to put it on me again, Sammy. Please."

My hands trembled as I lifted the thong over his head and settled the amulet on his chest. He looked down and shakily brought up a hand to touch it, running a finger slowly over the carved face. He then raised his head and met my eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy—I _never_ shoulda thrown this away! No matter how pissed off I was that day, I shouldn't have done that. I regretted it the moment I left the damn motel room, but I was too fucking stiff-necked to admit it, even though I knew how much this amulet meant to both of us. So thank you for saving it from the trash then, and thank you for giving me this second chance now." He pulled me in for a hug.

I hugged him back, rather teary-eyed myself. "There's nothing to forgive, Dee. I know you were really upset that day—with me, with Zachariah, with God. So I fished this out of the trash can and saved it for when I thought you'd be ready to give it—to give _me_ —another chance."

"It's like what you said all those weeks ago, 'bout how things coulda been better before if we'd talked 'bout shit more? If I'd only told you that day why I was upset, how those memories made me feel, then you woulda had a chance to explain how they weren't right. Coulda prevented this whole fucking misunderstanding, man." Dean sighed.

"It's not just you. If I'd talked to you about that phone message, I could have saved myself so much grief and pain. I mean, it wouldn't have changed how I feel about everything _else_ I did, but knowing that you didn't—that you don't—think I'm a monster . . ."

My brother gently placed his hands on either side of my face. "Like I said before, I ain't ever gonna think anything like that 'bout you, little brother. I know I'm hard on you sometimes, but you're still the best person I've ever met. You've had some awful shit dumped on you your whole life, but the core of you always stays _good_ , no matter what happens. And this is coming from someone who actually is a fucking monster!"

"I've told you to stop calling yourself that! You're no more a monster than—than Goliath from _Gargoyles_!"

"Goliath, huh? I guess I can take that—he's pretty cool. Better than being compared to Elmo or some shit. Now enough serious crap! We've got a comfy bed, some relative privacy, and we're both naked, so let's take advantage of that!" With that, he leaned in and kissed me.

"Mmm, okay . . . Is your back sore after that long drive?"

"A little bit, though the hot shower helped. Why?"

"Lie down on your stomach," I replied. "I'll give you a backrub."

"Awesome!" Dean quickly positioned himself in the center of the bed, arms tucked under the pillow he rested his head on.

I gazed admiringly at the lines of broad shoulders and back tapering down to narrow waist and hips, at the curves of firm, perfect ass, at the expanse of smooth, pale skin dotted with freckles. I climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips. Starting at the small of his back, I ran my hands firmly up either side of his spine until I reached his neck. I started rubbing my fingers in circles on his neck and shoulders, digging my thumbs into any particularly stiff areas.

"Oh God, Sam! You can stop that, like, never," he moaned underneath me. "If we ever quit hunting, you definitely have a future as a masseuse!"

"Jess took a couple massage classes, and she taught me," I said as I attacked a sore spot.

"Good girl. _Ahh_ , right there!"

His muscles relaxed as my hands moved down his back. I could feel his chest vibrating, though the purr was not yet audible. By the time I reached the base of his spine, my brother had turned into a boneless puddle. I leaned down and licked a stripe up his backbone. When I reached his nape, my tongue began tracing a line from freckle to freckle, drawing constellations and sigils amongst the cinnamon flecks. I worked my way down to the small of his back, accompanied by sighs of enjoyment.

I shifted position until I was kneeling between his thighs. I drew a finger down the cleft of his ass to the pink furl of his entrance and slowly pushed in past the tight ring of muscle. Feeling how wet he already was, I immediately slipped a second finger inside and pressed down on his prostate.

Dean made a pleased noise and stirred. I pushed him back down with my free hand and murmured, "Shh, stay here, Dee. Wanna make you cum just on my fingers."

He nodded and relaxed again. I began tapping and rubbing the two fingers against his prostate, watching his hips twitch and feeling his inner walls tremble. As his gasps and moans grew in volume, he buried his face in the pillow to muffle the sounds. I added a third finger and started sliding them in and out of his channel, running the tips against his sweet spot on each pass. With my other hand, I grasped my own cock and stroked it in time with the fingers plunging in and out of my lover's ass.

"Can you handle a fourth?" I asked.

He groaned and nodded into the pillow. His pelvis bucked, frantically rubbing his member against the bed, as I went up to four fingers and sped up the motion of both hands. His hips soon stuttered and his passage clenched around my fingers as he climaxed with a stifled cry. I slid my fingers out and jerked myself with both hands a couple times before I gasped and striped his buttocks and lower back with my cum.

Before Dean could move, I scooped up some of my seed, smoothed it on my cock, and eased my way inside him. We both groaned in pleasure as I sank all the way in, his slick, tight walls fluttering around me. I laid down atop him, resting some of my weight on my forearms, and pressed a line of kisses across his shoulders and up the back of his neck. At the same time, I leisurely flexed my hips to slide my shaft into and out of the other man. He canted his pelvis so that my strokes passed over his prostate and undulated his hips languidly with mine.

"Like this, Dean?" I whispered in his ear. "You like it when your little brother fucks you slow, just glides his big cock in and out of your tight ass?"

"Yeah, Sammy, just like that. Just keep fucking me like that." He craned his head to catch my lips with his.

I clasped his hands in mine as we continued to move together slowly. My brother was now purring loudly enough that my own chest was resonating slightly in response. I enjoyed the sensation of burying my entire length in his hot, silken depths as he pressed back against me. I could feel my orgasm building as a gradual wave, as opposed to the sudden rush of pleasure when making love at my usual frenetic pace.

As the wave began to crest, I heard Dean's breathing start to hitch. "Gonna cum soon, Dee. Are you close?" I asked as I rocked deep inside him.

"Almost—almost there, man. Just—just a little more," he gasped, trying to roll his hips.

I snapped my pelvis hard against his and bit down on his nape as my climax hit. He groaned and clamped his inner muscles around my cock as he quivered through his own orgasm. I wrapped an arm around his waist and rolled both of us onto our sides, still moving inside him.

"Dude, enough! It's been a long fucking day, and I'm _sticky_!" he complained as I reached a hand down to stroke his cock.

"Just once more? Please, Dee," I wheedled. I nibbled on his ear as my other hand slid up to toy with a nipple.

"You're just lucky I love that giant dick of yours," the smaller man grumbled. He began to shift his hips, alternating between pushing back onto my cock and forward through the hand fisted around his shaft.

"I can't help it—being inside you is addictive!" I thrusted rapidly into his snug channel, jerking his member and pinching the bud of his nipple faster as well.

"Guess that could give AA a new mean—ahh, _ahh_!" He quickly clapped one hand over his mouth before more noise could escape, while the other locked around the wrist of my hand at his chest.

I grinned at what was apparently an effective way to shut my big brother up. And safer than using my hand—his teeth could be _sharp_. I used the hand on his chest to hold him against me as I continued to drive into him. The muffled sounds from under his hand grew in frequency, and his grip on my wrist tightened. I looked down at his flushed skin and blown pupils and realized he was reaching sensory overload. He rocked himself between my hand and my cock more urgently as I sucked a mark into the skin below his ear.

His passage squeezed tighter around me as his climax approached. I grabbed his hips to hold them still and pounded into him, angling my thrusts to hit his prostate repeatedly. He dropped both hands to his cock and stroked himself hurriedly, whispering curses through clenched teeth.

"Take it," I growled. "You love taking my whole cock, don't you? Are you going to cum for me one last time?"

With that, I buried a shout in his shoulder as I ejaculated inside my lover. I felt his hips jerk in my hand and his ass clamp around me before he grew still. The only sound for a few minutes was that of both of us panting.

Eventually Dean groaned and reached down off the bed. He flailed for a bit before managing to snag the towel off the floor. He wiped both of us clean and then folded it over the wet spot on the bed.

"We made a fucking mess of Bobby's sheets," he commented as he lay back, purring contentedly.

"Well, we've got to do laundry anyways. Some of my jeans are practically standing on their own!"

"Are you sure they're not just being held up by all those boners you've been popping lately?"

"Oh, shut up! I've had almost fifteen years of repressed lust to make up for the past few weeks! And it's not like you leave me hanging for long." I settled an arm around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder.

"Does that mean that you'll slow down eventually when you get caught up?"

"I hope not! I plan to be this crazy about you forty years from now!"

The following morning, Dean made everyone omelets. He used to cook for us all the time when we were growing up and had learned to be quite creative at stretching cheap food out and making it far more interesting than it had a right to be. He also made us meals when he had the chance after we started hunting together, but that was one of the things that fell by the wayside as our lives got darker and more burdened. After we became a couple, however, he once again sought out motel rooms with kitchenettes and prepared food whenever we planned to stay somewhere for longer than a day.

Other than a raised eyebrow at the hickey below my brother's ear and a small smile at the amulet, Bobby treated both of us the same that morning as he always had, to my relief. I was a bit concerned that he'd act differently after a night to think everything over, particularly towards Dean. Finding out someone you thought you knew well wasn't human was a lot for a hunter to take in, even one as reasonable as Bobby. Add in the revelation of our newly taboo relationship, and it wouldn't have completely surprised me if the older man had changed his mind overnight.

After breakfast, Dean and I dragged our bags down to the basement. We worked through loads of laundry, cleaned and sharpened weapons, replenished ammunition, and repaired gear. Since we had the floor to ourselves, some making out naturally happened, as well as a round of blowing each other while leaning against the thumping washer. Once the clean laundry was piled back in our room, we trooped into the kitchen, where Bobby had sandwich fixings laid out.

We headed into the study after demolishing several sandwiches. As mentioned earlier, Bobby had acquired several new texts purporting to deal with the End of Days. I took a treatise on the Book of Revelations, while Dean was saddled with some apocryphal scrolls. The two of us ended up on the bed in the bay window again, me sitting against the window with my legs stretched in front of me, Dean lying down with his head resting against my thigh. Everything was quiet for a while, the silence broken only by the rustle of paper, the clink of Bobby's beer bottle against the desk, and Dean's occasional swearing at a sticky Latin translation.

Eventually, Bobby slammed the tome he was going through closed. "Balls! Maybe my Greek is rusty, but I'm pretty sure I've got bupkis here. What about you?"

"Nothing other than a case of fucking asthma," Dean responded sourly from my lap, tossing another dusty scroll onto the floor.

"The interpretation of the symbolism in this book is fascinating, but it mostly deals with the breaking of the Seals and the coming of the Apocalypse. Not much yet on how to defeat the Beast," I said.

"You are _such_ a nerd!" Dean accused, but his eyes were fond.

Bobby took off his trucker's cap, ran a hand through his hair, and replaced the cap. "I gotta say, I've been thinking about what you told me yesterday, and it's got me spinning my wheels in regards to this stuff. How is this Apocalypse showdown shit still happening when you're not really—I mean, when you're what you are?"

"You mean, 'cause I ain't the original Dean?" my brother offered, sitting up. "I wondered the same thing when this crap started, and I eventually ended up talking to Cas after he stopped being such an uptight sonofabitch.

"It's all 'bout the bloodlines, right? Well, like I told Sam a while back, when a shifter mimics someone, the change ain't just skin-deep—he really does become that person in most ways. I don't know if the police ever ran a DNA test on the shifter in St. Louis, but I'm pretty sure if Sam and I took one of those home genealogy tests, I'd come up as his brother just as much as the original kid. Plus a few extra genes that would confuse the hell outta the tech running the test!

"So whether those winged dicks like it or not, I'm the best they've got. They can't bring back Dad or Adam 'cause neither of 'em have the Campbell blood to go along with the Winchester. They're not gonna wanna resurrect a four-year-old and fucking put him up against Ginormitron here. And good luck trying to convince some other shifter to become me and then agree to be an angel condom! Plus those feathered fuckers seem to get a nasty kick outta comparing Sam's and my relationships with Dad to the archangels' own dysfunctional Jerry Springer episode."

"It's more than the bloodlines," I said. "Cas said that it must be the Righteous Man who ends the Apocalypse, right? Well, the Righteous Man can _only_ be you, Dean. None of the rest of us qualifies. Adam was just a regular kid, and Dad only hunted out of vengeance. It's another reason why I don't buy what Alistair tried to tell you—Dad was a great hunter, but there's no way he could be considered just or virtuous. And who knows how the original Dean would have turned out if he'd lived long enough?

"I'm not much better than Dad, even if I wasn't earmarked as Lucifer's meat suit. Revenge is also what got me back in, and then there was one disaster after another forcing me to stay even after we took out Yellow-Eyes. If there ever came a time when saving the world _wasn't_ in the picture, I don't know if I'd continue hunting, unless it was to stay with you.

"You're the only one of us who does this because you _want_ to. Yeah, you enjoy it and you're good at it, but your main reason has always been helping people. Just like you told me that first hunt after Jess' death—saving people, hunting things, the family business. You want to keep doing this, no matter the cost to yourself, because you _care_ that people would get hurt otherwise.

"Cas once told me you had the purest soul of anyone he'd ever seen, and he wondered why you couldn't ever see how good you are. That pure, righteous soul is why you were the only one who could kill the Whore of Babylon, why you're still a true servant of Heaven even without faith. It's the reason why the crossroads demon was willing to accept your deal, why the angels fought so hard to free you from Hell, and why you went to Heaven when we were shot."

Dean's expression was flustered. "No, Sam. I—I ain't that special. You said it yourself last night—the deal, the rescue, it was all a fucking set-up. And the Heaven thing, that was all you, man. You deserved to go upstairs, and I was just along for the ride 'cause of the soulmate business. As for being righteous, by your definition any firefighter or soldier who runs into danger to help people could qualify for that."

"You don't give yourself enough credit, boy. You _are_ special," Bobby spoke up. "Sam's right, you know. I don't know where non-human souls are supposed to go when they die, but Heaven and Hell are both meant for humans only. You shouldn't have been able to sell your soul for Sam's, and you shouldn't have gone to Heaven when you both got shot. The fact that you did, that the powers-that-be both upstairs _and_ downstairs were willing to ignore the rules for you, is a _huge_ frigging deal! And just 'cause other people also risk their lives to save people, that don't make you any less of a hero!"

"Also remember, Cas and the other angels didn't know it was rigged when they came to get you. They fought for you because you deserved to be saved," I added. "And Cas isn't willing to go to bat for us because of me, dude. He might not think I'm an abomination anymore, but you're the reason he stood up to Zachariah and the others."

He still looked skeptical. Sometimes my brother's lack of self-esteem made me want to scream—at our negligent, overly critical father for never giving him the attention he deserved, at all the people who took him for granted or assumed he was just a pretty face, at Alistair for breaking him down in Hell, at so-called Destiny for putting too much on one man's shoulders. Even at myself for being selfish and oblivious for so long. Six weeks of _finally_ being the object of someone's devotion weren't enough to counteract twenty-seven years of neglect, doubt, and pain. But now was not the time to vent my frustrations.

Instead, I clasped his face between my hands and gazed deeply into those green eyes. "Do you trust me, Dee?"

"Of course, Sammy. More than anyone, you know that."

"More than Dad? More than the angels, even Cas?"

"That's what I just said, ain't it?"

"Then believe me when I tell you that you are a _good_ person, the best I've ever known. And I'm not saying this just because I'm your kid brother or your—your boyfriend. You are in no way simply a substitute for anyone—not as the Michael Sword, not as my brother, and certainly not as the love of my life."

Long lashes screened his eyes as he tried to glance away, and flushed spots appeared over his high cheekbones. "I—I dunno 'bout all this, man . . ."

"I do." I stopped any further protests by covering his lush mouth with mine.

Bobby coughed discreetly. "If you two need some alone time—"

I regretfully pulled my lips from my brother's and dropped my hands. "No, we're okay. Sorry, Bobby."

"Hey, if that's what it takes to get through this idjit's thick skull, be my guest! And I told you before, there's no need to hide that sappy stuff 'cause of me, even if I am a grumpy old coot. As long as you don't try to suck each other's tonsils out in front of me, I'm fine."

We both laughed at that.

"There's something else I don't get. You can only be killed by silver, right?" the older man continued. "Then how did those two yahoos send you on that jaunt upstairs? For that matter, how were the hellhounds able to take you out two years ago?"

"Turns out their guns were loaded with silver bullets. I dug a couple outta the walls when we cleaned up the motel room after Joshua sent us back," Dean replied. "One of those feathery asshats must've made the switcheroo to send us someplace where Zachariah could call all the shots. Dumb and Dumber had no clue, of course. I asked 'em when I found 'em later."

"When did you run into Roy and Walt again?" I asked in surprise.

"Remember when we were on our way to Laramie to deal with that poltergeist 'bout a week or so later? And I didn't come back to our room 'til nearly dawn? I didn't _actually_ spend the night with that hot redhead from the bar. I'd tracked Tweedledee and Tweedledum to that podunk town, and I made sure that they _sorely_ regretted hurting my baby brother." Dean suddenly looked almost feral, and I decided against asking if the two hunters had survived the experience.

"As for the hellhounds, I think massive damage will take out almost anything, silver or no silver," he continued. "Which is why decapitating works on most fuglies. I'm pretty sure one of those hellhounds ate my heart like a Scooby Snack after they tore me open, and that's all she wrote."

I shuddered at the memory, and Dean wrapped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed comfortingly. That had been easily the worst night of my life, even worse that when I lost Jess or Dad, and I didn't like recalling how my brother's body had looked after the hounds were gone.

"You okay, kiddo?"

"Bad memories, man. But I'm fine." I bumped my shoulder against his.

"The demons _and_ the angels have a hell of a lot to answer for all the crap they've put you two through," Bobby said.

"Well, the way I see it, we've got both sets of those fuckwads by the short and curlies now," Dean responded. "Before, they coulda tried to hold this secret over me as leverage. But now that you both know the truth 'bout what I am, they've got nothing else on me. If they try to coerce either me or Sam again, to hurt us or you or anyone else we know, then they're gonna lose their precious holy vessel. 'Cause there'll be nothing to stop me from shifting into Joe Blow from Bumfuck, Nebraska if they push too hard. Then the God squad'll really be up shit creek without a paddle, 'cause there ain't no backup plan after me."

"But . . . I thought you hated turning into someone else? Makes you not feel like yourself anymore and messes with your head?" I gave him a concerned look.

"I do. But if it'll keep you safe, I'll do it in a heartbeat, little brother." He looked at me earnestly. "I gotta admit, I was considering giving in for a while. Even though I knew the collateral damage was gonna be horrific, it seemed better than losing the whole fucking planet if everything comes up aces for Lucifer.

"But now that we're together, there ain't no way I'm saying yes and leaving you behind. I talked big before 'bout how we'd figure out how to beat this our way, and now I'm behind that plan all the way. We might not find the solution today or tomorrow, but I know we'll kick it in the ass in the end."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

After that, Dean retired to the kitchen to fix some dinner. He found some ribeye steaks lurking in the back of the fridge, seasoned them, and threw them on the grill, along with some baking potatoes and ears of corn. Bobby and I returned to the research until the food was ready.

As we were cleaning up afterwards, the phone rang. It was Bobby's regular phone, not one of the fake agency lines.

Dean, being the closest, grabbed the phone and stuck it between his ear and shoulder while wiping down the kitchen table. "Singer Salvage. What do you need? Oh, hey, man!" He listened for a moment and then handed it to Bobby. "It's Rufus."

"What's that damn fool want now?" the older man grumbled as he took the phone. "Yeah, what? . . . No, not right now . . . Uh huh . . . Uh huh . . . How many? . . . Alright . . . _Who?_ . . . How soon do you want . . . Uh huh . . . Yeah, I can do that . . . See ya then."

He hung up and rubbed his face irritably. "Balls! Looks like I gotta head out first thing in the morning. Rufus thinks he's come across a small pack of barghest, and he don't wanna tackle 'em alone. He's near Fort Peck, Montana, so I've got a pretty long drive ahead of me."

"Do you want us to come with you?" I asked as I put away the last of the dishes.

"Nah, Rufus already called Garth in for additional back-up, God help us. Sounds like the three of us should be able to handle it, and you boys can really use the down time. _Mi casa es su casa_ , as always. The fridge and pantry are fully stocked, so you shouldn't need to go out for a few days if you don't want. Just make sure you clean up after yourselves, and don't desecrate my damn bed!

"Besides, I got another hunter who's supposed to be stopping by here in a coupla days. He's bringing me some rare books from a dealer out in Omaha and picking up some new IDs I made for him. I probably won't be back by then, so I'd appreciate it if you can take care of him for me."

"Sure thing, Bobby," Dean said. "We can handle that."

"That being said, I won't say no to help getting ready. Dean, can you go down to the basement and see how many clips of cold iron rounds I've got? Grab me a couple if you can. If there's not enough, we might need to cast some more tonight."

"Do you know if Rufus or this Garth dude have any?"

"Good thinking. No, I don't, so grab a couple clips for them too if I've got 'em. I'm gonna also need some spell components from down there. Gimme a couple minutes and I'll give you a list. Sam, can you help me double-check the lore?"

"Of course. How sure is he that what he's dealing with are barghest?"

"Eh, you know Rufus. The idjit certainly _thinks_ he knows what he's doing."

"In that case, I'll pull up what I can on black dogs and skinwalkers also, just to be safe."

The rest of the evening was spent looking up the appropriate lore and packing Bobby's van for the trip. This included discreetly emptying any flasks I could find that didn't contain holy water. Dean's drinking had dropped dramatically in the past few weeks, back down to a beer or two with dinner or after a hunt, a few more or maybe some shots if we were at a bar—enough to get relaxed and happy but not impaired. Bobby, on the other hand, who'd never been a light drinker to begin with, had been hitting the sauce even more since losing the use of his legs. I worried, but knew any mention of the problem would be brushed off or barked at.

Bobby left early the next day. We spent most of the morning going around the house and taking care of chores and repairs that the older hunter could no longer easily do himself in his current condition. We also did a bit of cleaning, since housekeeping tended to be low on his priority list even when fully mobile. The house never got actually filthy, but I was afraid the dust bunnies would attain sentience if left unchecked too long.

Housework dealt with, Dean went outside to tinker with the Impala for a bit. He'd been complaining about something off with the engine noise for the past three days, though I couldn't detect any difference from the car's normal rumble. I meanwhile returned to the previous day's research. Once satisfied that his baby was back in tip-top shape, he put together burgers and steak fries for lunch and joined me in the study afterward.

It didn't take long to notice that my brother seemed unusually restless, above and beyond his normal behavior when bored. He wouldn't stay still, constantly fidgeting in his seat or pacing around the room, particularly near the doors and windows. He couldn't stay quiet either, humming or singing under his breath or tapping a rhythm on the nearest immobile surface. He of course pestered me, but his actions were more affectionate than intentionally annoying—leaning or rubbing against me, stroking an arm or a leg, running his fingers through my hair, randomly kissing my lips or neck.

I tried to be patient at first, ignoring his twitchiness and returning his caresses. When it got to the point that it took me ten minutes to go through one page, however, I realized I needed to do something. Otherwise, Bobby would be coming home to the aftermath of a case of justifiable fratricide.

I first dragged Dean outside for a sparring session to try to burn off some of his excess energy. His distracted state worked in my favor, and I was able to pin him repeatedly way too easily. Far from being upset at losing, he seemed to view each grapple as an opportunity to make out instead. We went back inside after an hour, both of us sweaty and breathless, and I tried to go back to the books. There was about forty minutes of peace, and then the agitation started up again.

I then threw him down onto the bed in the study and summarily stripped us out of our clothes. Too aggravated for foreplay or other niceties, I rammed inside my brother and pounded into him until he couldn't speak. He accepted this eagerly, pushing vigorously against my thrusts and collapsing afterward, happily sated. That succeeded in quieting him longer, but his restive behavior eventually returned.

I finally had to banish him to the kitchen. Making judicious use of both puppy-eyes and dimples, I convinced him that we should have Italian for dinner, but something fancier than just spaghetti. To my relief, he decided on lasagna, salad, and garlic bread, which kept him occupied for quite a while.

After dinner, I initially had to almost forcibly hold him still as we lay on the living room couch to watch _Avatar_. He calmed down once he got sucked into the movie and purred contentedly when I started petting him. I occasionally had to remind myself to keep my hands above his waist so that we could concentrate on the TV. Fortunately, the stunning visuals were enough to keep my upstairs brain more engaged than my downstairs one, even with the somewhat weak plot.

Once the movie was over, Dean darted upstairs and locked himself in the bathroom for a longer-than-usual shower. This left me to clean up the mess in the kitchen before heading upstairs myself. I undressed and took care of my nightly ablutions once the bathroom was free.

When I returned to the bedroom, I was mildly surprised to see the other man still had a towel around his waist. His cheeks were flushed, and he was having a hard time meeting my eyes.

"Dude, is something wrong?" I asked in concern while I put my clothes down.

"No, no, everything's fine! Umm . . . so I kinda have this little . . . uh, secret I wanna share, I guess. It's nothing bad or scary or anything, I promise! But you gotta swear not to make fun of this, okay?

"So I dunno if you remember, but back when you were, like, fifteen, we spent a coupla weeks in this crappy place an hour outside Biloxi while Dad was hunting a bunyip. I hooked up with this chick named Rhonda Hurley while we were there. She was great—hot, smart, funny, fearless—and maybe if we'd been able to stay longer . . ." He looked momentarily wistful, and I wondered with a pang if that had been the first time my brother had fallen in love.

"Anyways, this one night, she wants me to try something. At first I was like, 'No way!' but . . . it turned out I kinda liked it. I've never told anyone else besides myself 'bout this until now . . ." He trailed off again, and his cheeks turned even redder.

"Oh. _Oh!_ Dean, whatever you want to try, I promise I'll give it a shot. And I definitely won't tease you!"

"O—okay . . . Remember, you said you wouldn't laugh . . ." He took a deep breath and dropped the towel, revealing a pair of emerald-green, satin and lace panties.

I gaped, temporarily at a loss for words. Dean had always been an enthralling mix of both masculine and feminine, with his large, long-lashed eyes, soft, full lips, strong, chiseled jaw, and tall, broad-shouldered frame, with his macho public persona and nurturing private side. To see him now, the dainty panties contrasting with his lean, hard muscles, his large cock stretching the floral lace, was definitely the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. I was instantly, almost excruciatingly aroused.

Before my brother could say or do anything else, I rushed over, grabbed his face, and devoured his mouth. His lips were swollen and shiny with spit when I eventually came up for air. They opened to say something, and I growled and dropped my hands to his satin-covered hips. He let out a surprised squeak as I lifted him up and slammed him against the nearest wall. He quickly wrapped his arms around my shoulders and his legs around my waist as I attacked the base of his neck.

I slid a hand down from his hip to between his legs and pushed the panties aside just enough to bare his hole. I could feel moisture seeping out of his entrance, so I grasped my cock and pushed all the way into his hot depths. The smaller man gasped and gripped me tighter, his eyes rolling back. I gripped both of his hips firmly and began to drive into his slick channel vigorously, thumping his back against the wall with each thrust.

"Oh, oh, _fuck_ yeah! Harder, Sammy! Fuck me through the wall!" he groaned.

I growled again, hitched him up higher, and rammed him down on my member. He cried out again and again as I repeated this, increasing the speed and force of my motions. His inner muscles flexed and spasmed while I plunged further and further into his snug passage. I bit down on his neck when I felt his fingers dug into my deltoids.

"Gon—gonna cum, Sam!"

I hurriedly slipped a hand between our heaving torsos and pushed the waistband of the panties underneath the head of his cock. Seconds later, his walls clamped tight around my shaft, and his cum spurted onto his abdomen. I managed another handful of hard strokes and then shuddered as I climaxed deep inside my lover.

As the adrenaline wore off, the strain of supporting the weight of a full-grown man in my arms started to show. I carried him over to the bed and collapsed beside him. From where I was lying, I had a great view of the truly magnificent love mark I'd left on his neck, the edges of which would still be visible above the collar of his shirt when he was dressed.

"Well, _that_ was different! I take it you approve of the panties?" Dean's large eyes were laughing.

I propped myself up on an elbow and gazed down at him, better able to appreciate details now that all the blood in my body wasn't centered in my cock. The panties were a couple shades darker than his eyes, the front panel lace with a tiny silk bow in the center of the waistband, the sides and back glossy satin. It appeared that he'd trimmed the hair on his groin so none of it would escape the edges of the panties. His glans was still peeking out above the waistband, and the material between his legs was now soaked with my semen.

"Fuck, Dean, the things you do me! Are you sure you're not secretly a siren?" I leaned down to kiss his full lips, which were still a bit puffy from my earlier assault.

"Ugh, I wouldn't wanna look like _that_ in the mirror! Nope, I'm just naturally irresistible!" He smirked up at me.

"Is _this_ why you've been so damn spazzy today?" I ran my fingers along the waistband of the panties and tugged on the little bow.

"No, not really. I'd been thinking 'bout it for a little while, and I figured tonight would be a good time since we have the place to ourselves. Didn't really get nervous 'til I had 'em on.

"I dunno what was up with me earlier. I felt, like, itchy or something under my skin—couldn't sit in one place, but also had the urge to be super-cuddly, like you were suddenly the world's biggest teddy bear or some shit. Sorry I was such a pain in the ass."

"Are you still feeling, um, itchy now?"

"Dude, if I'm feeling anything other than aftershocks from that massive orgasm, you did something wrong!"

"Guess I'll have to do my best to keep you distracted then," I said. "Hold your legs up and apart for me, Dee?"

As my brother grabbed the back of his thighs just above the knee and lifted his legs, I slid down on the bed. I sucked at the head of his cock for a bit before licking down his shaft and mouthing at his balls through the panties' lacy front panel until it was soaked with my spit. I pulled the fabric to one side and ran my tongue along his perineum and around his pink entrance, lapping at the cum leaking out. Dean cursed softly as my tongue pushed past the still loose ring of muscle and licked at the mingled seed and lubricating secretions inside. I slipped in two fingers to hold his hole open while I continued to thrust my tongue in deeper. The mouth of his passage was soon wet with saliva, and I could hear him panting loudly.

I sat up and positioned his legs so that his knees were resting against my shoulders and then plunged my erect member into his warm channel. The other man was bent almost double as I leaned forward on my hands and surged in and out of him, keening as each stroke brushed his sweet spot. He started to rock his pelvis against mine, driving my cock in even deeper.

"Did you like me eating you out, big brother? Like me licking my cum right out of your hole?" I panted. "I wanna see you cum just on my cock. Can you do that?"

"Ye—yeah, Sam . . . God _damn_ , your cock feels amazing!" My lover's eyes were half-lidded, his hands clenched in the bedsheets.

The damp crotch of the panties rubbed against my shaft as I kept thrusting into him, continually hitting his prostate. I sped up, pounding into his passage harder and harder until the bed was creaking underneath us in time with our gasps and sighs. His inner walls had been contracting rhythmically around me and now started clamping tighter around my member. My brother shouted as he shivered through his orgasm, and I pulled his hips tight against me as I came, pulsing deep inside him.

I carefully pulled my cock out and replaced it with a couple of my fingers, entranced by the feeling of my cum dripping out onto the panties. I lay down beside him without removing my fingers, and he sighed languorously as I crooked them idly against his prostate.

"Oh yeah, that's good! You like making a mess of my panties, Sammy?" Dean's eyes were heavy and languid as he looked up at me, his chest rumbling contentedly once again.

I pulled him closer so that his ass rubbed against my softening cock before responding. "You have _no_ idea! Please tell me you can get more of these!"

He laughed. "Sure, baby. Some toys too, huh?"

I was quiet and still for a moment, other than the fingers moving slowly inside him. Eventually I spoke. "I probably should've asked this a while back. Does it bother you that I'm always the one . . . um, topping when we . . ."

"When we fuck?" my brother offered helpfully. "Why? Do you wanna try being the bottom?"

I hesitated before answering. "Err, well, no, not really. I know it has to feel good, judging by how much you enjoy it, but . . . I don't know, maybe it's a control thing or something . . . But if you really want to top sometimes, I'm sure I can figure out how to—"

"Hey, it's okay, man. Not everyone likes to switch, and there's nothing wrong with that. And contrary to what you see in porn, you can't just jump into bottoming if you ain't done it before. Fortunately, I really _do_ enjoy it. I was usually the one doing the catching before when I was with other guys. And with you? Sweetheart, there ain't _words_ to describe how you make me feel when you're inside me." He wriggled sensuously against my hand to emphasize his statement.

"What about . . . being with women?"

"You mean, do I miss it?" Dean sat up partway and looked at me seriously. "Listen, I ain't gonna stop looking at hot chicks, or guys for that matter, 'cause my eyes ain't broken. And I ain't gonna stop flirting, 'cause it's fun, and bonus if I can score a free drink outta it. But why would I wanna bang some random girl I barely know when I got you? Though if you're concerned that I ain't getting enough opportunities to stick my dick in something, you can make it up to me with more blowjobs!

"Seriously though—you know I ain't real comfortable talking 'bout stuff like this. But I meant what I said when we started this, that you're the _only_ one I ever really wanted. I've been with a lotta people before, maybe too many, and none of 'em could compare to you. You're the most beautiful, intelligent, brave, kind, sincere person I know, and I'm still amazed every day that you're all mine. If I'm gonna spend quality alone time with anyone, it's gonna be with you, and _only_ you, got it?"

I'd grown increasingly more disconcerted as he spoke. "Quit it, Dee . . . I'm not—I'm not beautiful, not like you!"

He looked honestly surprised. "What are you talking 'bout, Sammy? You're _gorgeous_ , every part of you! There's your hair, so thick and silky, and it's the reason I prefer brunettes. I love the different colors your eyes can turn depending on your mood or what's around you. And the way they slant, along with these incredible cheekbones of yours, it makes me think of something exotic, like a Mongol prince. Then there are these pretty pink lips of yours, and how they look when you smile, especially with those dimples! And your body, all that muscle and tan skin—baby, there are Greek gods who'd be jealous of how you look!" He brushed his hands reverently over each part as he described it.

"And don't be doubting the other stuff I said 'bout you, either! You're so _good_ , and you deserve so much better than what life's handed you. Yeah, you've made mistakes, some pretty big ones, but so have I. And yet despite everything that's happened, you always want to do your best for everyone. So tell me again, _why_ would I want anyone else?" Dean kissed me passionately.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" I said when he finally let me go. I slipped my fingers out of his channel and placed them over the front of the panties. "So did you want me to get a start now on those blowjobs?"

He shrugged my hand off and rolled up onto all fours facing away from me. He threw a heated glance over his shoulder and waggled his green-clad ass suggestively. "Maybe later, sweetheart. Right now, we've got all night to get these panties _truly_ filthy!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I woke up the following morning as something almost painfully hot and tight slid around my cock. I opened my eyes to the sight of my brother straddling me, his hands resting on my chest and his passage squeezing around my shaft. Unlike the last time he'd been on top, he wasn't in the mood to tease this morning and rode me loudly and enthusiastically until we both climaxed a few minutes later.

As I tried to catch my breath, Dean immediately moved down and started licking and sucking at my cock. I felt a bit of surprise at this. We did usually go for more than one round if we could whenever we made love, but this was a pretty fast turnaround even for us. Especially since he was the one who generally preferred to take his time. His mouth, like his channel, was unusually hot, and his tongue felt slightly raspy against the skin of my member.

"Not that I'm complaining about your enthusiasm, but how about a little breather first?" I asked.

He popped his mouth off my shaft and gazed up at me. "Shuddup, Sam. Still too fucking horny to argue."

I frowned down at him. So soon after an orgasm, his eyes should be heavy and lazy. Instead they were glazed and . . . I jolted upright, grabbed his chin, and took a closer look. His pupils were slitted, something I'd only seen him do previously to enhance his night vision during a hunt. And while his body temperature was normally higher than mine, the skin under my fingers now felt scorching hot. Before he could bat my hands aside, I pulled his upper lip back to reveal the fangs and then turned his head to one side to glance at the pointed tips of his ears.

The other man yanked his head away. "What the hell is up with you, man?"

"Fuck, Dean! _Look_ at yourself! Your eyes, your ears, your teeth—they're _shifted_!" I snatched up one of his hands and showed him the retractable claws adorning the ends of his fingers in place of his normal nails. "And you're fucking burning up! Something's wrong!"

He stared at his fingers in shock and then felt at his teeth and ears. "Shit! I didn't realize . . . I haven't shifted involuntarily since I was a little kid!"

I got up, hurriedly pulled out the thermometer from our medical kit, and stuck it in Dean's mouth. While waiting for the reading, he went over to the dresser mirror and peered at his eyes. He grimaced in concentration, and his appearance shifted back to normal. He then started to pace edgily around the room, stroking his still erect cock and whimpering. I meanwhile got dressed and tried recalling if there were any books downstairs on shapeshifters that I hadn't already read.

After the requisite three minutes had passed, I took out the thermometer and read the temperature. "Damn it, your temperature's at one-oh-four! That's at least three degrees higher than normal even for you! Does anything else feel different?"

He circled closer. "I do feel hot. And that itchy energy is back, worse than yesterday—feels like I'm gonna vibrate outta my skin if I stay still, except when we were having sex. It's, uh, hard to concentrate—I've never had this much trouble shifting back to normal before. And I'm really, _really_ fucking horny!

"I don't get what's going on! You know I can't get sick from regular people, and we haven't been near another shifter in a while, assuming I can catch something from one of 'em. We haven't messed with any witches recently either, so it can't be a hex."

"There's ways you could be sick that don't involve getting infected from someone else. I think we need to call Bobby. He might have a suggestion about what's going on or be able to steer us towards where to look for an answer."

"Okay, sure. But before we do that, can we fuck again first?" He moved right up beside me, panting slightly, his eyes feverish.

"Come on, man! I'm way too worried to be in the mood!" Although with a naked, needy big brother pressed against me, my downstairs brain was starting to reconsider. I took a deep breath and continued, "Can't you jerk off or something?"

"It's not enough! Need you _in_ me, Sammy. Need you so bad!"

He rubbed up against me frantically, whining in the back of his throat. I noticed he'd reverted back to the earlier feral look—slit pupils, pointed ears, fangs, and claws. I could almost see the desire radiating from him, and his scent was different, richer and somehow intoxicating.

"Okay, okay, Dee."

I quickly undressed and pulled him down onto the bed. He straightaway put his hand on my cock, stroking it to fullness. I settled between his legs and pushed his knees up, noting that his inner thighs were slick with clear fluid. I pressed inside his entrance, startled at how wet and searing his channel was. I set a brisk pace, making sure to hit his prostate with each stroke. He hitched his legs over my hips and growled low curses as he rocked his pelvis against my thrusts. It wasn't long before he shook and ejaculated onto his belly. I followed him into orgasm shortly after.

"Is that better?" I sat up against the headboard after he nodded and grabbed my phone off the nightstand. To my dismay, Dean climbed into my lap as I dialed and sank down on my member, which hadn't had the chance to soften yet. I hissed at him, "What the hell are you doing? Bobby's going to pick up any second now!"

My brother made another whining noise, still looking flushed and distressed. "S—sorry, Sammy—I can't help it! I need _more_!"

"Oh God! Fine, but you need to stay _really_ quiet!" I thumped my head back against the wall. This was going to be a _serious_ test of my ability to multi-task.

Bobby came on the phone just as Dean started to move above me. "That you, Sam? What's up? Didn't expect to hear from either of you so soon."

I cleared my throat and took a moment to gather my concentration so that I could focus on the phone and not on what was happening to my cock. "Uh yeah, Bobby . . . Um, do you have a few minutes to talk, and are you alone?"

"Sure, kid. Rufus and that idjit Garth just left to pick up breakfast, probably won't be back for at least fifteen minutes. What's the matter?"

"There's something really wrong with Dean! I'm really worried—he's never been sick before! He can't catch diseases from humans as far as we know, and he hasn't been around other shifters recently. Nor any witches or demons that we're aware of, so we're pretty sure we can rule out hexes and curses." I could hear my voice going up frantically.

"Alright, calm down, Sam. What are his symptoms?"

The older hunter's no-nonsense tone settled me, and I took another deep breath before speaking. "I think it started yesterday—he was really restless, like _way_ more ADD than usual, and very . . . well, affectionate. Today his temperature is several degrees higher than normal and he's even more agitated than before. He's having trouble concentrating and keeping his normal appearance—he keeps shifting to a . . . I guess, wilder look, with fangs and claws and catlike pupils. He actually _smells_ different somehow. And uh, well, his libido is really off the chart!"

I reddened at the last part, knowing that neither Bobby nor I wanted to be discussing intimate details with each other. I couldn't completely stifle a gasp as Dean took a firm grasp on my shoulders at that moment, claws pricking slightly, and started to surge up and slam down on my shaft vigorously. I held the phone away from the bed in a futile attempt to hide the distinctive sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

"Are you two morons having sex _right now_ while you're on the phone with me?" Bobby asked incredulously.

I groaned, wishing it was actually possible to die of mortification. "God, Bobby, I am _so_ sorry! But Dean is really desperate, almost like he's in pain when we're not . . . um, doing it. _Ahh_ . . . sorry! This is worse than when we took on that siren—and no, we definitely haven't dealt with another one of those lately either."

Bobby was silent for a moment, while Dean buried his head in my shoulder and shuddered his way through another orgasm. I rubbed his back with my free hand, hoping he'd be sated long enough to let me finish the conversation with the other hunter.

Bobby finally spoke up. "Balls! I don't know how else to explain this, but . . . I think Dean's in heat."

My brother's head shot up at that, his hearing acute enough to pick up the other end of the conversation. "The _fuck_? I thought that shit only happened to female animals!" he exclaimed.

"Listen, there's a lot we don't know about shapeshifter biology. But I suspect that their gender is a pretty fluid thing, seeing as how most of 'em shift back and forth between men and women pretty easily. I know you identify as male, Dean, but as a species your kind are probably closer to hermaphroditic than anything."

"Hey, no, I do _not_ have lady parts, man!" Dean glared at me as he said it.

I held up my hands placatingly. I'd made the mistake once of joking about "manginas" in reference to his trick of altering the lining of his passage before intercourse. It took nearly three days and a _lot_ of groveling before he let me touch him again after that.

Bobby meanwhile replied, "Not saying you necessarily do, boy. But there might be some aspects of your physiology that are more female than you realize. This case in point. What you're going through right now has all the signs of a critter in heat."

I felt as astonished as Dean appeared. "But why is this happening now?" I asked. "From what I understand, most animals starting going into estrus at the onset of the equivalent of puberty. Dean's over thirty, and I'm pretty sure this hasn't happened before." My brother shook his head in response to my inquiring look.

"Who knows? Like I said, there's a lot about the shifter lifecycle we just don't know yet. It could be that they don't become fully mature sexually 'til way later than us humans. Which might make sense considering that as far as we do know, shifters can live practically forever unless they get themselves killed.

"Or could be that while they're capable of impregnating human women starting at puberty, they can't carry children themselves unless the conditions are right. Think about your situation right now, Dean-you're in a safe, stable environment, you've got privacy, and you're with . . . well, you're with your _mate_. So it could be your body's decided this is the ideal time for breeding."

Dean looked horrified. "Do you mean I'm gonna get _pregnant_? Fuck!"

"Of course not, ya idjit! We ain't in one of those crazy Internet stories! As long as you don't shift to a female form, you should be fine. Normally I'd also tell you to avoid relations with any women too just to be safe, but I figure that ain't an issue any more.

"There is something you should consider though, Sam. I don't know how long this heat is gonna last, but it's liable to be a few days at least. You're a strong, hot-blooded young man, but I doubt you'll be able to keep up with your brother's . . . needs for that long on your own. Since you won't be able to go out and I can't get back for at least a couple more days, I suggest you call Jody Mills and ask her to pick you up some . . . mechanical assistance. She probably knows where to get something like that discreetly."

"Bobby, I _can't_ do that!" If I blushed any harder, I might burst a blood vessel. Dean looked equally thrilled at the idea.

"Suck it up, princess, unless you wanna die of a sex-induced heart attack!" Bobby barked. "You didn't die of embarrassment talking to me about this, and you won't die talking to her. And considering how well she handled that sad mess with her son, I think she'll take whatever you tell her about Dean's situation in stride."

"But we'd hafta tell her 'bout _us_ ," Dean pointed out.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that. I've gotten to know the good sheriff better since that night, and she's a very sensible and open-minded lady. I think you can trust her with this secret. Write this down, it's her direct number." Bobby rattled off a local phone number. "Now I gotta get going, 'cause I hear Rufus pulling up."

"Thanks, Bobby. We'll call you if anything else major comes up. Let us know how the hunt goes." I hung up and put the phone back on the nightstand.

My brother reached up and kissed me tenderly as he began to move on top of me again. Instead of going at his earlier harried pace, he rolled his hips and rippled his inner walls leisurely, rising up and settling down on my cock in a slow, wave-like rhythm. His gaze was still heated, but there was less animal lust and more _Dean_ behind those slit pupils now.

"I guess Bobby really does know you better than anyone, including me," I murmured as I laid my hands on his narrow hips. At his puzzled glance, I clarified, "His comment about not having to worry about you going after women anymore. I should've trusted in your loyalty before this."

"It ain't a matter of trust, baby boy, so don't feel bad. It's just anxiety," he responded as he continued to ride me gently, lightly scratching his claws down my chest. "I feel the same way too sometimes, like I still can't believe that you're gonna be happy with me, that I'm gonna be enough for you. It's just 'cause this thing between us is still new, and there's a whole lotta baggage that came before. But as long as we don't let those thoughts get too big without dealing with 'em, we'll be fine."

I gave him a deep kiss, swirling my tongue around his. "I thought I'm supposed to be the emotionally mature one here," I said once I pulled off of his full lips.

"Nah, I just let you think that 'cause I don't wanna bogart _all_ the awesome and make you feel bad." He grinned impishly at me.

I laughed and kissed him again before thrusting up into his taut channel. We moved together unhurriedly for a time, moaning and sighing into each other's mouths in pleasure. Eventually I sensed my desire approaching its peak and pushed into my lover faster, hoping to bring him to culmination with me. I held back long enough to feel him gasp and clench around me, then drove my hips up a final time and shot into him.

I slid down until my head was against the pillows again, Dean resting on top of me with his head lying on my chest and his inner walls still quivering around my cock. He lay still for the first time since we awoke, purring contentedly. I idly stroked his back, enjoying the respite for as long as it lasted.

"Are you feeling any better? You seem less frantic than before," I said, looking down at the top of his disheveled tawny hair.

Green eyes met mine, the heat in them banked for the moment. "For now, yeah. It's all still there, but it's manageable right now. These last few rounds must've taken the edge off, at least for a while. And even just having you in me like this helps."

"I'm glad." Something suddenly occurred to me, and I swore.

He lifted his head in concern. "What's the matter, Sam?"

"It may be too late now, considering how many times we've made love since yesterday, but maybe I _should_ be using condoms? I know Bobby said it wasn't a risk, but he also said we don't know everything about how this works. It's better to be safe than risk getting you . . . um, knocked up."

Dean snorted, sounding uncannily like our surrogate father. "No, man. Bobby was right, which I woulda realized before myself if I wasn't freaked out. This hormonal shit may be throwing a buncha things outta whack, but it hasn't made me suddenly grow a uterus and ovaries outta my _ass_. That's basic biology, college boy. So unless you notice me sprout an _actual_ vagina down there sometime before this heat crap ends, we don't gotta worry."

"Are you _sure_?"

"Positive. Remember how I said one of the benefits of being what I am is having better control over certain things? I might not have _quite_ enough command over my body to stop this heat thing, but I'd _definitely_ know if I sprouted a whole new set of organs outta the blue. So relax, dude.

"Another thing that the old man was right 'bout is that you're gonna need help keeping up with this, particularly if it goes on for more than a day or two. You probably should call Sheriff Mills now before I go into nympho mode again."

"This is going to be _so_ embarrassing! I bought toys once before with Jess, but we barely know Jody!"

"Gotta be done, kiddo. You and I are kinda stuck on house arrest 'til this is over, and who else are we gonna ask? Even if they were here, d'ya _really_ wanna ask Bobby or Rufus to go in a sex shop and get us a fucking dildo?" We both shuddered simultaneously at the idea.

"Can't you ask her, Dee? Please?" I wheedled, breaking out the little-brother voice.

"Nope, not it. You got a better rapport with her after your excursion through Romero-land together. 'Sides, you're always bragging that your people skills are so much better than mine. So have at it, Kissinger." He folded his hands on my chest, rested his chin on them, and smirked up at me.

" _Fine_! But you need to stay quiet, and _no_ trying to get me to fuck you while I'm talking to her!" I snatched my phone off the nightstand and dialed the number Bobby gave me.

After a couple rings, a crisp voice said, "Sioux Falls police department, Sheriff Jody Mills speaking."

"Hi Jody. It's Sam Winchester."

Her voice immediately warmed up. "Hey Sam! How are you doing? And your brother, Dean?"

"We're fine, thanks. We're staying at Bobby's place for a few days. Do you have a couple of minutes? Uh, it's kind of . . . personal."

"Hold on a second." We heard the sound of footsteps and then a door closing. "Okay, should be good now. Do you need help with something? Is it a . . . case?"

"We could use your help, but it's not about a case. It is important though, and well, _really_ embarrassing. Um, we— _argh!_ Dean, stop that!"

I glared down at my brother, who'd moved off my chest while I was talking and taken my cock into his mouth. The idiot merely batted his long lashes provocatively and spun a rough pink tongue around my shaft.

"Sam? Is everything alright?" Jody sounded concerned.

"Ugh! It's fine—Dean's just being an ass. Where was I? Right. So we're kind of in a bind here. We can't leave the house at the moment, and since Bobby is out of town, we're hoping you can help us. Uh . . . so . . . _weneedyoutogetusavibrator_!" The last words came out in a nervous rush.

"Hold on a minute! Did you just ask me to buy you a . . . _vibrator_?" I couldn't tell if her voice was amused or scandalized.

"Trust me, Jody, if it was actually possible to die from embarrassment, you'd need to call a coroner right now. But yes, we really do need someone to pick us up a vibrator, and kind of soon. One that's good-quality, sturdy, and has a decent battery life. And . . . um, large. Can you _please_ help us out? We'll pay you back, of course, and we promise to explain everything when you come over."

"Now I'm just _dying_ of curiosity! Of course I'll help. Is this for a woman, man, or both? And how large are we talking about?"

"For a man, and . . . uh . . . seven to nine inches, I guess?"

"Alrighty then! I can duck out during my lunch break to pick something up. I'm off work at three today, so I can stop by after that. Does that work for you, or do you need me to come over sooner? I could come over as soon as I finish buying the vibe, but I won't be able to stay long if I do that."

"No, after three should be fine. We'll see you then. Thanks so much!"

"I can't _wait_ to hear what's going on! See you boys soon!"

Once the sheriff hung up, I glared down again at the other man, who was still happily sucking on my member. "Really, Dean? Why do you have to be such an asshole?"

Dean gave my shaft a long, lascivious lick and then looked at me innocently. " _Not_ an asshole. I'm being an _awesome_ boyfriend and giving you an epic blowjob, for which you should be grateful. Besides, you should be nicer to the man with sharp teeth who's putting your dick in his mouth. What's the goofy smile suddenly for?"

I'd quickly gone from irritated to pleased and a little self-conscious. "Still not used to hearing you call yourself my boyfriend. It—it feels nice, you know?"

He gave me a genuine smile this time. "Yeah, I do, baby boy. Hopefully we'll both get used to hearing it a lot. Now back to the business at hand!"

He swallowed me down again, humming _Dazed and Confused_ as he performed his magic on my cock. He gently ran the tips of his fangs across my skin as he bobbed up and down my length and the tips of his claws over my scrotum as he fondled my testicles. I scratched my nails through the tousled spikes of his hair while he continued to work me over with mouth, tongue, and fingers. Despite having already climaxed three times this morning, it wasn't long before I ejaculated down his throat.

"Okay, that _was_ pretty good. But I _really_ need a breather now! I could also use something to eat," I said after kissing my brother appreciatively.

"Sure thing, Sammy. I'll whip up some waffles, and then we can christen Bobby's kitchen table!" Dean waggled his eyebrows as he led me downstairs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

We spent most of the rest of the morning and early afternoon alternating between extended bouts of sex and periods of rest lasting as long as Dean's need would allow. We did indeed "christen" the kitchen table, the desk in the study, the living room sofa, and the shower. We also got the sheets on our bed and the bed in the study thoroughly sticky, which resulted in another shot at intercourse on the washing machine _and_ the dryer while waiting for the bedding to be cleaned.

When three o'clock rolled around, I made sure that Dean was as sated as possible and that we both were washed, brushed, and dressed. We were waiting in the study, and I had just finished giving him a blowjob, when the doorbell rang. I got up off my knees, wiped off my mouth, and pushed my hair back into some semblance of order before going to the door.

"Hi, Sam! I come bearing gifts, as promised." Jody was still in uniform, and she was holding a surprisingly large pink bag.

"Come on in. Thanks again for helping us out with this."

"No problem! It gave me an excuse to get away from the paperwork on my desk for an hour. And I may have picked up something for myself while I was in the shop." Her brown eyes assessed me shrewdly as she stepped inside. "You look tired. Is that why you're staying here at Bobby's, to get some rest?"

Even though she was probably only a few years older than Dean, there was something about Jody that had always struck me as motherly. Or maybe big-sisterly—I sometimes had trouble telling the difference between the two since I'd been mostly raised by my big brother. We didn't have much in the way of positive female influences in our lives anymore now that Ellen and Jo were gone, and I found myself hoping that this woman would turn out to be more than an acquaintance.

I shrugged. "That was the original idea. But then something unexpected came up, which is why we had to turn to you."

"Oh, is it some sex curse thing? Or did some monster put a whammy on one of you? Bobby told me about one . . . sirens, right?"

I smiled ruefully. "Not exactly. It's better if I let Dean explain." I led her into the study and waited to see her reaction to his appearance.

My brother was leaning against the desk and basking in a sunbeam when we first came in, his wide green eyes opening as we approached. I could tell by her blush that the sheriff was initially distracted by the fact that the only clothing he could stand to wear in his sensitized condition was a pair of loose sweatpants that barely clung to his hips. A half-naked Dean was always a thing of beauty, with the afternoon sun gleaming off his dark gold hair and the brass amulet around his neck and gilding his fair skin and the contours of his lean muscles.

She stopped abruptly with a startled jerk as she took in his slit pupils, pointed ears, and claws. "Dean, is that you? What happened?"

"Hey, Jody. Yeah, it's still me. Why don't you take a seat, and I'll explain what's going on? Do you want a beer or something?"

At her nod, he went into the kitchen and returned with three bottles, while she sat in one of the armchairs and I took a seat on the newly-made bed. Dean uncapped each bottle with his silver ring and passed them over before sitting next to me and leaning against my shoulder. Jody looked at the two of us curiously as he took a deep drink and sighed.

"Bobby filled you in 'bout the Winchester family history, right? Well, he didn't know it at the time, but that wasn't the whole story. You see, I'm technically not Sam's brother, not by birth anyways. The night that our Mom died, little Dean Winchester went back into the house after carrying baby Sam out, and the smoke got him. A few months after that, Dad took down a shapeshifter, found out it had a child—that would be me—and decided to use me as a surrogate for his dead kid. So I took on Dean's identity and helped Dad take care of Sammy, and he raised me as his son and taught me to be a hunter. Sam didn't know the truth 'bout me until a few weeks ago, and we only told Bobby a coupla days ago."

"What's a shapeshifter?"

"So get this, the lore is full of different creatures that can change their form. The most well-known are the weres, which take on certain aspects of a particular animal, like the eyes, fangs, and claws. Their change is tied to the full moon, they need to eat hearts—preferably human—to survive, and they can only be killed by silver to the heart. The most common are werewolves, but there are also werecats, werebears, and so on," I explained.

"Then there are skinwalkers, which take the complete shape of a particular animal. They can change whenever they want, but they still need hearts and are vulnerable to silver. Most of them turn into some form of canine, at least here in North America, but it's rumored that the Norse _bearsarkers_ are a kind of skinwalker.

"Shifters, like Dean, can assume the form of any person or creature at any time. They can also take on the memories of the person, though that usually requires some type of physical contact first. They share the weakness to silver with the other two but not the need for hearts. They're virtually indistinguishable from whomever they're mimicking except for a silver flare to their eyes in certain light or on camera."

"Thank you, Newt Scamander, for the excessively long explanation," Dean said drily. "Shifters are usually bad fucking news 'cause most of 'em are crazier than a box of Fruit Loops, and not in the happy, chasing imaginary butterflies way. It typically starts 'cause they're born into a human family—the shifter parent being long gone after impregnating the mother by pretending to be the father—who freaks out the first time the kid changes. So they start out alienated, maybe abused, and then they go even more schizo after they download too many other people's memories.

"I got lucky that Dad found me. He accepted what I was and gave me the family life those other poor fuckers never had, even if it wasn't great by most people's standards. And of course I've always had Sam. I also don't copy an actual person unless I absolutely hafta, and I've learned a way to purge the memories if I do."

As Dean finished, Jody pulled out her cell phone and gasped as his eyes turned silver on the camera screen. She looked at him wide-eyed and asked, "Can you shift into something that won't cause you any problems?"

My brother concentrated for a moment, and his appearance changed back to normal. He focused again, and his hair became blue-black, his eyes dark brown, and his skin swarthy. He held that for about a minute and then lapsed back to the wild look he'd been sporting all day with a sigh. I was glad—while he of course made a gorgeous brunette, I preferred my blond, green-eyed lover, even with the current feline features.

"That's amazing!" she exclaimed. "Okay, but what's with the eyes and fangs and stuff? And why did you need me to make a trip to the adult toy store for you?"

"And here's where we get to the _really_ fucking embarrassing part!" Dean groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't suppose you'd be willing to field this one, Sam?"

"Nope, not it," I parroted smugly. "This is all on you, big brother."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Sonofabitch! Okay . . . uh . . . so apparently I went into uh, heat today, or maybe yesterday." My brother's face was bright red. "This ain't something's that's ever happened to me before, so we weren't exactly prepared for it. My sex drive's been through the fucking roof all day, and Sam ain't gonna be able to keep up forever. Which is where you come in."

"Wait a minute! What do you mean, _Sam_ can't keep up with your sex drive?"

"Remember how I only found out about Dean a few weeks ago? Well, after I finished freaking out that night, we figured out how we truly feel about each other. We've been together since then." I put a hand on Dean's thigh and looked at her defiantly.

"You mean, _together_ together? So today, you've been—"

"Taking care of my brother? Yes, I have. Is that a problem?"

"Wow! That's a lot to take in!" The sheriff slumped back in the chair and thought for a couple minutes.

"I guess legally it's not incest since you're not _really_ blood-related. But you grew up together and obviously still consider each other brothers . . ." She paused again. "Bobby told me a little about how you were raised, so I know things weren't easy for you two. And you _are_ both consenting adults. If this makes you happy, who am I to judge?"

"Thanks, Jody." I relaxed, though I didn't move my hand.

She looked speculative. "So, this heat business . . . I'm guessing it works different for shifters, since Dean's not a girl. And it certainly explains the, ah, bedroom eyes you're both sporting! I still don't get where the change in his appearance comes in though."

My brother sighed again. "I've been having a really hard time concentrating since this hormonal mess started. I normally don't hafta work so hard to shift. And whenever I stop thinking 'bout it, I seem to go back to _this_ , and I dunno why."

"I wonder if shifters have some kind of original or ancestral form, and the heat is making you partially regress to it somehow," I said. "There's no way to know for sure unless we find a more detailed book on shifter lore though. Or can talk to a more experienced shapeshifter, preferably one that isn't trying to kill us."

"Which ain't likely to happen, unless we can actually find one who ain't nucking futs. So, anyways . . . What's in the bag, Jody?"

She got up and put the bag on the desk. "I wasn't sure exactly what you needed, so I got a selection of items. Pick out what you like, and I'll take the rest back. The store normally doesn't take returns on toys, but they're making an exception for me as long as they're unopened."

She started taking items out of the bag. "I got two different vibrators. The blue one has an insertable length of nine inches and a diameter of nearly two. The purple one has an insertable length of eight inches and a one-inch diameter. This here is a prostate massager, and it also has a tickler to stimulate the perineum. Here's a butt plug, and here's a set of anal beads. They both vibrate, and the plug comes with a detachable remote. The saleswoman assured me that all of these are very durable and well-reviewed. I also got a bottle of water-based anal lube in case you don't have any. It's safe to use with any of the toys and won't stain the sheets either. Got batteries too, of course. Oh, and they threw in this leather cock ring, which comes with snaps for quick removal."

"Wow, Sheriff, you sure seem comfortable with this stuff! I'm guessing this wasn't your first trip there, huh?" Dean teased.

"Hey, a girl has needs! Sean and I visited this shop together a few times. And now that he's gone . . ." She trailed off, looking pensive.

"We're both really sorry about your husband, Jody. I wish we could've saved him," I told her.

"I know you did your best, Sam—you both did. No one's to blame except those sons of bitches that you're trying to stop. Anyways, what do you think of the goodies?"

I looked at the other man. "You're the one these are going to get used on, man. What's your preference?"

He looked over the toys, picking up each box and reading the descriptions. After some consideration, he set aside the larger of the vibrators, the prostate massager, and the anal plug. I flushed when I noticed Jody eyeing first the vibrator and then me assessingly.

I cleared my throat a little self-consciously and asked my brother, "What about the lube?"

"We haven't really needed it before." At Jody's raised brows, Dean added, "Not human, remember?"

"We also haven't gone on an extended sex marathon like this before. Chafing is _not_ fun, dude," I pointed out. I turned to the sheriff. "How much do we owe you for those three and the lube and batteries?"

She studied the receipt and said, "Looks like about one-eighty."

I pulled out my wallet and handed her the money. We always made sure to hustle up plenty of cash before coming to stay with Bobby, not wanting to cause problems by using fake credit cards near his home. We certainly hadn't planned to drop nearly two bills on sex toys while we were here, but it was a necessary expenditure under the circumstances.

As I put my wallet away, I saw that Dean was still studying the toys, and his eyes had darkened and begun to glaze. His newly alluring scent had become stronger, and I could feel my groin starting to react. I hastily stood and said, "I hate to rush you, Jody, but I think we're going to need some, um, private time now."

"Oh! Well, don't let me keep you two then!" She got up and put the other vibrator and anal beads back in the bag.

I followed her to the door and impulsively gave her a hug as she started to step out. "Thanks again! You've been a huge help."

She hugged back. "It's the least I could do, all things considered! If you need anything else, you let me know. And tell that old coot to call me when he gets back!"

When I returned to the study, I found the sweatpants abandoned on the floor and the three boxes opened and emptied. The sound of running water came from the kitchen. I grabbed the remaining items off the desk and followed the noise.

Dean was at the sink, cleaning the new toys with soapy water. He turned to me as I came up beside him and kissed me deeply, sucking and nibbling on my lower lip. His erection rubbed against my jeans, leaving a smear of pre-cum over the fly.

"Wanna take this upstairs, Sammy?" he asked huskily after letting go of my mouth.

My response was to grip one of his wrists and swiftly lead him to the bedroom. I opened up the pack of batteries and started loading them into the toys. "Which one do you want to try first?"

"Go big or go home, man," he said, indicating the vibrator. He lay back on the bed and nestled into the pillows, his legs sprawled.

I placed everything else on the dresser, kicked off my shoes, and joined him on the bed. I laid the blue vibe on the bed between his legs and pulled off my shirt, then leaned over him and slotted my mouth against his. After exchanging kisses for a moment, I moved my mouth down over one of his nipples and teased it, blowing on it and flicking it with my tongue. I put a hand on his cock and stroked lightly as I switched to the other nipple.

When my brother started pushing insistently against my hand, I slipped it down behind his balls and rubbed two fingers around his slick entrance before inserting them into his hole. He made a pleased noise as I ran the tips over his prostate and then spread them to stretch his channel open. He meanwhile ran his hands over my torso, caressing the muscles of my chest and abdomen. I slid my fingers in and out of him a couple of times before removing them and picking up the vibrator.

I pushed the toy into his hole, watching his face for signs of discomfort as I slowly worked it into him. He pressed himself down until it was buried in him to its widened base. I withdrew it just as slowly and angled it slightly as I slid it back in so that it rubbed against his sweet spot on the way up. Once it was fully seated, I turned the dial on the base to the lowest setting. Dean gasped and clutched at my shoulders.

"Tell me if it gets to be too much," I whispered. He hummed and nodded in response.

I sucked a kiss into the side of his neck and turned the dial up halfway. I began thrusting the vibe in and out of his passage, unhurriedly at first and then at a faster pace as he panted and moaned in pleasure, making sure each pass stroked his prostate. He buried his face into the crook of my neck and flexed his hips with the vibrator's motions.

"Do you want more, Dee?"

He made a needy noise and nodded into my shoulder. I twisted the dial to the highest setting and pressed the toy's flared head against his pleasure spot. He cried out, and his fingers dug into the back of my shoulders. I left the vibe where it was for a bit and then started driving it into him quickly, while my other hand enfolded his cock and stroked.

"Oh, _ah_ , Sammy! Fuck, I'm gonna—"

My lover suddenly shook, and his cum sprayed over my hand. I lifted the hand to his mouth, and he licked my fingers clean, still quivering with aftershocks. I switched the vibrator off and removed it, putting it on the nightstand.

Watching him come undone with the toy had left my cock achingly hard. I stood and quickly removed my jeans and boxers as he watched me with eyes still bright with desire. I squirted some lube into my hand and smoothed it on my shaft and snapped the cock ring around the base before returning to the bed. My brother wrapped his legs around my waist as I slipped inside him. I took his hips in my hands and proceeded to plunge into him briskly, listening to him purr in pleasure as his inner muscles fluttered around my cock. He fisted his hands in the sheets and arched his back, allowing me to slide further inside his depths.

"God, Dean, you feel so good—so wet and tight and hot! Love how easily you take all of me in!" I reached down and kissed him hungrily.

He tangled his tongue with mine and then dropped his head back, eyes half-shut. "More, Sammy, _ah_ , more! Don't hold back!"

At that, I grasped a firm cheek in each hand and lifted his ass up. I began snapping my hips into his buttocks, driving into him with long, hard strokes. He soon bit his lip and groaned as he clenched around me, his body quaking as he rode his orgasm to completeness. I kept thrusting until he stilled.

Dean lay panting for a moment, then turned over and got up on his hands and knees, still keeping me sheathed inside him. He looked back over his shoulder, green eyes heated. "Need you, Sam. Ride me hard!"

I pushed down between his shoulder blades until his face was pressed into the pillow beneath him. I admired the graceful curve of his lithe back before gripping his hips tightly. He gave a shout as I commenced pounding into him as rapidly and deeply as I could, slamming into his ass almost hard enough to bruise. He grabbed onto the mattress to keep from being pushed into the headboard.

"Oh yeah, Sammy! Keeping ramming that giant cock in me! Wanna fucking feel this for _hours_ after!"

I growled and continued driving into him. His taut passage shivered as my member shoved into its depths over and over. He lasted quite a bit longer this time, but his ecstasy eventually peaked, and he screamed into the mattress as he climaxed. I didn't stop, determined to wear my lover out. I kept surging into him, giving him the hard ride he'd begged me for. The room resounded with his cries and my grunts, the slaps of my skin against his, and the cracks of the headboard against the wall. As he finally shuddered through another orgasm, I pulled the cock ring off and came so violently that my vision whited out.

We both collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. I leaned over and stretched out an arm until I could snatch the prostate massager off the dresser. Before he could say anything, I pulled out of my brother's trembling hole, slicked up the toy, and inserted it in place of my cock. I bent the tickler until it was snug against his perineum and turned the massager on. He keened as the vibrations resonated against his sensitive flesh.

I slid an arm around his waist and pulled him until his head was cradled against my chest. "Is this too much, Dee?"

He moaned wantonly. "Mmm . . . No, man, this is real good. Not feeling so—so desperate now. You can keep that going for a while."

I pressed my lips into his hair and held him, the only sounds now the rumbling of his purr and the whirring of the toy. My muscles were still trembling, and I would need some time to recuperate.

Dean lifted his head and peered up at me, his eyes thoughtful. "Hey Sam, do you ever think 'bout it? Having kids, I mean? I don't mean anytime soon, not with all the shit going on. But, like, ever?"

I looked at him in surprise. "Not really. Even with Jess, I never thought about settling down and having the white picket fence and two-point-five kids. I think I subconsciously knew that as much as I loved her, what I had with her wasn't the real thing. It's a shame you never got to know her though—she was _so_ much like you. Probably why I fell for her."

"Careful what you wish for, man. We woulda ganged up on you and rocked your sad, wannabe-lawyer world!" He grinned at me.

I chuckled. "You're probably right. But anyways, if you're talking about the two of us having kids, I don't think it's a good idea. For one, you'd have to take on a female form not only for the conception but also the entire pregnancy. I couldn't do that to you, to force you to not be yourself for nine months. The other issue is that if you really are genetically virtually identical to the first Dean, then inbreeding could be a serious concern. Maybe the shifter genes could counteract any inherited problems, but I wouldn't want to risk a child's health on that chance.

"I know you like kids, Dee. I've seen how you've been over the years whenever a case involved a kid, and I remembered how disappointed you were when Ben wasn't yours. Hell, I remember how great you were at raising me. If we ever get the chance, we can look into adopting or something. The kid doesn't even have to be human!"

"I was also fucking terrified that Ben _would_ turn out to be mine. I _never_ want a kid of mine to go through the shit those other shifters did. Speaking of which, if we ever do get a kid of our own, natural or adopted, it'll only be _after_ we settle down. The way we were brought up might not have completely messed _us_ up, but I ain't putting my own kid through anything like it! He's gonna have a real goddamn home, and two parents who are around and not out risking their damn lives, and he's only gonna know enough 'bout the fucking supernatural to protect himself. Or herself." Dean looked fierce, even with the toy buzzing between his legs.

"Kinda surprised to hear you say that. You've always been the one who enjoys the hunting life and who always defended Dad."

"I do enjoy it, at least before the angels and demons decided to fuck things up. But it don't mean that I haven't wanted something more outta my life. I understood Dad and why he felt he had to do what he did, and I tried to make the best outta it when we were growing up 'cause we couldn't change any of that shit. But I always knew you deserved better, which is why I didn't fight when you wanted to go to Stanford. And I'd want better for my kid, too."

I was quiet for a moment, and then burst out, "I'm sorry, Dee, for being so selfish back then!"

"What're you talking 'bout? Selfish 'bout what?"

"About Stanford, about leaving you! I was so wrapped up in what _I_ wanted, in what I thought I needed, that I didn't think about you—about what you might want, about what you'd given up over the years to take care of me and Dad, about what abandoning you would do. Yeah, I asked you to come with me, but I should've pushed harder, should've _fought_ for it.

"Instead, I left you behind to handle Dad all by yourself, and he was never a picnic to deal with on a good day. Then _he_ left you too, 'cause his quest for vengeance was more important than his own fucking son! And all those times I fought with him before I left, I was so insistent on proving him wrong that I didn't care that we were tearing you apart, while you were trying to keep the peace between us, trying to keep your family together. At least not enough to stop.

"Despite all that, you _still_ didn't give up on me. You called, you texted, you drove out to California when you could, you did everything you could to show that you'd always be my big brother. And I threw all that back in your face like an ungrateful asshat! I intentionally picked that fight, intentionally cut you out of my life for almost two fucking years, all because I was too chicken-shit to deal with my feelings!"

My brother looked taken aback by my tirade. "Sammy, why are you always so fucking down on yourself? You were just a damn _kid_ , and you were after what any kid would want. It wasn't your fault that we didn't have a great childhood, and it wasn't wrong to want something better. I always understood that and never held it against you."

"You were just a kid too, and you gave up everything for me! You fought for me and let yourself get hurt so I'd be protected, you stole and went hungry and worse so I'd have enough, you sacrificed your chances at happiness so I'd have as close to a normal childhood as you could give me. And I repaid you by leaving you, over and over—Flagstaff, Stanford, Burkittsville, Cold Spring . . . And you might've forgiven me for those, but you don't forget—it's why you're always so scared I'm going to desert you again!"

"Baby, you gotta stop this! I—I ain't this saint you keep trying to make me out to be. I made more than my fucking share of mistakes with you, and I hurt you plenty of times too. How many of the things that you won't stop beating yourself up 'bout woulda still happened if I'd treated you better or been more understanding or just goddamn _listened_?

"But we can't keep dwelling on what we did wrong, 'cause like it or not, our damn past is what brought us _here_. And sweetheart, I'd go through all that shit again to be able to keep on loving you and have you loving me. I ain't afraid anymore—I know you ain't going nowhere 'cause this, _us_ , is just as important to you." He pulled my head down and kissed me deeply, almost angrily.

When he finally let me up for air, I stared into those wide, long-lashed eyes. "There you go again, being all emotionally enlightened. You _have_ been holding out on me."

"Gotta be honest, kiddo. All this moping of yours is getting in the way of the awesome orgasms I'm supposed to be having." Dean grabbed my hand and guided it to the base of the massager. "Now why don't we find out what this toy can do?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The following night, I'd just finished fastening the leather handcuffs around my brother's wrists when the doorbell rang.

He swore. "Who the hell is coming here this late? Fuck, if it's Jody, it's gotta be an emergency! No way she'd come over now otherwise."

"Shit! It might also be that hunter that Bobby said would be coming by. You've got to stay up here in case it's not Jody. I'll go see who it is and take care of it." I started to get up.

"Uh uh, I ain't letting you go by yourself if we dunno who's down there." He struggled to sit up.

"Dude, it's either Jody or another hunter. It's not like I'll be in danger from either."

"Walt and Roy were hunters too, remember?"

"And you put the fear of God into everyone afterwards, right? Besides, Bobby wouldn't let the guy come over while we're here if he was a threat. I'll be _fine_." I kissed him reassuringly. "You know you can't risk being seen right now—you're still having trouble controlling your appearance. But if it'll make you feel better, I'll go armed, and I'll be careful. Do you want me to take the cuffs off?"

"Nah. They're pretty easy to get outta if I need to." Dean gave them a couple quick tugs, making the headboard rattle a bit. "Just don't take too long. I'm gonna need more of your cock real soon!"

"Well, here. Let's keep you busy with this until I get back." I lubed up the butt plug and inserted it into his waiting hole, then placed the remote in his hand.

I got up and quickly got dressed as the doorbell rang again. Fortunately, we'd just showered after a long nap, so I looked and felt fairly refreshed. I'd been doing better since yesterday afternoon, now able to pace myself more with the help of the toys. I slid my Taurus and silver-plated bowie knife into my waistband before giving my lover a quick kiss and running downstairs.

I switched on the porch lights and opened the front door halfway. The man standing on the porch looked to be in his fifties, a couple inches shorter than I and with the kind of heavyset build that packed plenty of muscle beneath the fat. His dark grey hair was slicked back, and his pale blue eyes reminded me of a husky's. He had a thick scar across his left cheek, and his nose had been broken at least once in the past. He was dressed in typical hunter attire— faded flannel, dirty jeans, worn boots. He seemed vaguely familiar.

"Hey partner, is Bobby Singer home? The name's Silas Barnes. Brought some books for him, and he's supposed to have some stuff for me." He smiled amiably and held up a paper-wrapped parcel.

"Sorry, Bobby had to leave a couple days ago to help out Rufus Turner. But he told us to expect you. Before I let you in though, I've got to run the usual tests. Bobby's rules, you know."

"Hah! He's a dodgy ole fart, ain't he? Sure, kid, go ahead."

I first handed him the flask of salted holy water that Bobby always kept by the door. After he took a long swig with no reaction, I pulled out my knife and made a small cut below his elbow. That taken care of, I held the door the rest of the way open.

"Come on in, man. Just give me a minute to grab the package Bobby left for you. New IDs, right? I'm Sam, by the way."

"Sam . . . Wait, not little Sammy Winchester? Thought I recognized that black behemoth out front. Boy, you sure did grow up big! Last time I saw you, you were still such a little squirt," Silas said as he stepped inside.

"You probably don't remember me, huh? You must've been no more than twelve or thirteen when we met. It was in Deadwood, Oregon back in the summer of ninety-five. I was supposed to meet your daddy to get his help in taking care of a pack of skinwalkers, but he was late getting back from tracking down a crocotta, I think it was. So I got a room in the motel you were at and kept an eye on you boys 'til he got back maybe a week or so later."

"I knew you looked familiar! You used to give me candy from the vending machine, right? Dean made cracks about it 'cause you had that white van."

The other man laughed as he followed me into the kitchen. "Man, I ain't thought 'bout that beat-up ole thing in years! Peanut M&M's were your favorite, if I recall right. If I'da known you was here, I'da picked up a bag for ole time's sakes!

"Sorry 'bout getting here so late. Case I was just on was supposed to be a simple salt-'n-burn, 'cept it turned out the ole biddy was cremated. So I figured I'd torch the cursed object she's tied to instead. Problem was, her house shoulda been featured on one of them hoarder shows! Took me all night to find the damn thing, and by the time I was able to grab some shuteye and then a quick bite and hit the road, it was almost noon."

He took an approving sniff. "Something sure smells good in here! Say, you wouldn't happen to have any grub to spare, would ya? Been on the road most of the day, and I ain't had nothing to eat since I left. And to be honest, money's been kinda tight for a little while, so I don't exactly have enough to cover both food and gas right now."

I paused in the act of pulling the package of IDs out from the pile of Bobby's mail. I really needed to get this man out of the house and get back to my brother. But I couldn't help but sympathize—being low on funds was a common state for hunters, and there'd been more than a couple of occasions that we'd had to tighten our belts until the next hustle. Not to mention all the times Dean had gone hungry when we were kids and the money Dad had left us ran out. I sighed in resignation.

"Well, the last of the lasagna got eaten for lunch today. But there still should be beef stew left over from dinner. I guess I can fix some up for you." I pulled a large Tupperware from the fridge and popped it into the microwave.

"I sure appreciate this, Sam. So where's that brother of yours? Heard you two were usually joined at the hip. I remember him being just about the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Curious to see if he's grown up as well as you have." There was an almost covetous gleam in his eyes as he spoke.

"Dean's upstairs. He's come down with a bad case of the flu or something," I said casually. "It's really knocked him on his ass. I'll pass your regards on to him when he wakes up."

I filled a bowl with the heated stew and set it on the kitchen table. Not wanting to look like I was hovering impatiently, I opened up the parcel of books and started perusing the titles.

Silas sat down at the worn table and tucked into the stew with gusto. "Damn, this is good! Who do I need to thank for this fine meal?"

"Dean's the cook of the family," I said absently, flipping through a book on Mesopotamian rituals.

"Pretty _and_ he can cook? I'd say the boy's wasted on this life if I hadn't heard what a damn good hunter he is. The both of you, actually. I'm sure your daddy would be real proud if he was still around. Sorry to hear 'bout him passing, by the way. The man was a real legend in the community, you know. Stubborn, stiff-necked sonofabitch though, eh?"

"Yeah, he wasn't the easiest to get along with, even if you were related to him. Listen, are you almost done? I don't mean to rush you, but I really should get back to my brother."

The older hunter pushed his chair back with a satisfied groan. "Boy, that sure hit the spot! Sam, I don't wanna keep on imposing, but d'ya think you can put me up for the night too? Like I said before, I'm in a bind cash-wise right about now."

"I don't think that's a good idea, man. Dean's pretty sick, and I'd hate it if you caught something too if you stuck around too long."

"I'll make sure to keep my distance—the flu's no joke! You'd really be doing me a solid if ya lemme stay here. If I hafta spend another night in the rusty piece of shit I'm currently driving, my back ain't ever gonna recover!"

I hesitated again. Having another hunter staying here overnight was asking for trouble, given Dean's condition. And there was something about how he looked when he talked about my brother that made me uneasy. But I still commiserated with the man, having never enjoyed the nights we had to bunk down in the Impala. I had to put faith in Bobby's judgement, that he wouldn't have someone dangerous come over. To be safe though, I wasn't going to put him up anywhere near Dean.

"I'd like to help you out, Silas, but the other guest room is full of boxes of books and artifacts and shit. And I don't feel comfortable putting you in Bobby's bed," I told him.

"I'd be fine crashing down here on the couch or something," he assured me. "Anything's better than the backseat of that deathtrap!"

"Well, the couch in Bobby's living room is probably almost as bad. But I'm pretty sure he's got an air mattress and sleeping bag with his camping stuff in the attic. It might take me a while to find it though. He's got everything but the Zapruder film up there!"

"That's fine, kid. I'll just watch something on the boob tube 'til you're back. I'm real grateful for the hospitality!" Silas ambled into the living room.

I put the dishes in the sink to deal with later and went upstairs. On my way to the attic, I stuck my head in our room to check on my brother. He raised his head off the pillow and glared at me. I could barely make out the buzzing of the plug, though the cum drying on his stomach attested that he'd used it to get off at least once.

"What the _fuck_ is taking so long?" he demanded.

"Sorry, Dee! I couldn't say no when this guy needed something to eat, and now he's asking to stay the night. He's in a tight spot right now and can't afford dinner or a motel."

Dean looked at me like I'd lost my marbles. "Sam, are you stupid or something? You really think having a hunter stay over _right fucking now_ is a good idea?"

"Come on, man, I can't simply turn him away! We've all been in a similar position before. Besides, he'll be staying downstairs, so he won't get a chance to see anything suspicious. We'll just have to keep things quiet tonight, and I'll make sure he's out the door the first thing tomorrow morning," I promised. "I'm heading up to the attic to find Bobby's inflatable mattress and sleeping bag. You might want to get out of the cuffs though, 'cause I'll probably be up there for a while."

"You don't hafta be such a fucking Boy Scout all the goddamn time! You were just supposed to exchange packages with this dude, not open up a damn B&B for him," he griped. He dropped his head back with a sigh. "Fine, just hurry the hell up!"

I rummaged through several decades of dust and clutter for what seemed like forever but was probably less than half an hour. I eventually found where the camping gear was stashed, though I frequently wished I'd brought a flamethrower to fight off the army of creepy-crawlies determined to defend their territory in the process. Loaded down with the air mattress, sleeping bag, and a bicycle pump, I'd just started down the attic stairs when I heard a sharp cry of pain from down the hall.

I dropped everything and bolted to our room. To my shock, the door wouldn't open. As I tried to rattle the knob, I could make out a voice speaking through the paneled wood.

"—think I like you even better like this, just like one of those slutty hentai cat-girls. And I won't hafta fucking pay for it this time, will I? Come on, open up! You know you want it, you damn whore! Just like you wanted it fifteen years ago." The voice belonged to Silas Barnes.

I kicked the door below the knob several times until the wood splintered around the lock. I drew my gun, flipped the safety off, and shouldered the door open. The sight before me froze me momentarily in horror.

Barnes was on top of my brother, one hand wrapped around his throat, the other on the hilt of an oversized bowie knife buried in his shoulder. The blade was fortunately not near the brachial artery but did appear to be silver, which meant the wound had to be excruciatingly painful. The older man had one of Dean's hands pinned under one knee and was furiously using the other knee to attempt to pry the younger hunter's legs open. Barnes' nose was bleeding profusely, and he had bloody claw marks on his neck and arms.

Dean's other wrist was still cuffed to the headboard. The skin of his torso and thighs was littered with bruises, scratches, and small cuts. One eye was swelling closed, and his lips were bleeding as they drew back over his sharp teeth. He snarled and cursed wrathfully as he tried to buck the other man off.

My hesitation was just long enough for Barnes to react first. He yanked the knife out of my brother's shoulder, ignoring his yowl of pain, and held it to his throat, causing Dean to cease struggling. Barnes grinned at me sadistically, the pleasant good-ole-boy demeanor gone.

"Finally decided to join the party, Sam? Well, if you don't want these here festivities to come to a tragic end, you'll drop that gun and kick it to me. Because I promise you, boy, that you _ain't_ fast enough to shoot me 'fore I slit your brother's throat. Or should I say _lover's_?" he sneered.

"I knew you was lying 'bout how sick he really was when you said he'd made that deliciously complex stew. So I decided to pay him a visit while you was otherwise occupied, seeing as how me and him together go _way_ back. Imagine my surprise to discover that the famous Dean Winchester is a dirty little shifter! _And_ spreading his slutty legs for his baby brother! I wonder, does that mean you're a shapeshifter too, Sammy, on top of being a nasty brother-fucker?"

"You leave him alone, cocksucker!" Dean rasped around the hand still on his throat. "I'm the only damn freak here! He's more human than you are, since you're a fucking _disgrace_ to the whole fucking race."

"What do you think's going to happen, Barnes?" I demanded. "You can't hope to subdue us both!"

Barnes laughed mockingly. "In case you ain't noticed, kid, I already got big brother _subdued_. And unless you wanna see me cutting into his pretty skin with my shiny silver knife, you'll kick that fucking gun over right _now_!" To emphasize his warning, he drew a tiny cut on one side of Dean's neck.

I swore bitterly but complied. I couldn't guarantee an immediate kill shot, and I knew the other man would make good on his threat if I didn't take him down with the first bullet. I still had my knife, and my hands if needs be, so I just had to wait for the right opportunity.

This was _all_ my fault! If I'd followed my instincts and not let Barnes stay, or if I'd not left my brother alone, unaware and unprotected in the presence of an unknown hunter, this wouldn't be happening. Or if I hadn't stopped like a damn rookie when the door opened, this would already be over. If anything worse happened to Dean tonight, I would _never_ forgive myself.

Barnes continued, "Good boy! So here's how this is gonna go down. I'm gonna reach into my pocket and pull out a pair of cuffs— _real_ handcuffs, not the fun little toys Dean has on—and you're gonna put 'em on. Then you'll sit tight and watch me and your feisty tramp of a brother _enjoy_ each other. You know he's just panting for me, wanting to take any dick he can, like the filthy animal he really is, right?

"Then I'm gonna be on my way, and I think I'll be taking him with me. Dean here was the _finest_ piece of ass I've ever had, based on all the tastes I got that week fifteen years ago, and I'm figuring he's only improved with _experience_. If he pleases me enough, I'm just gonna knock you out when we go. And if you behave yourself, I won't let everyone know that he's a disgusting little monster and a whore, and that you Winchesters like to keep it in the family, as they say. But if you try to come after me, I'll start mailing pieces to you here. Wonder if they'll still grow back if I cut 'em off with silver?"

"You're seriously fucking delusional if you think I want you anywhere near me now, assclown! And I _never_ wanted you back then!" Dean spat. "I was sixteen fucking years old, we were outta money, and I was too young to get a job or get into a pool hall! So I sold myself to strange dicks 'cause I _had_ to, to feed Sammy and keep a roof over our heads, and that's it! You were a goddamn _hunter_ and knew Dad, but instead of helping us, you fucking took _advantage_ of the situation!"

"All this is jogging my memory. You left pretty abruptly after Dad showed up. He found out what you did, didn't he? I remember his hands being bloody after he talked to you. Was Dad the one who broke your nose or gave you that scar on your cheek before you ran with your tail between your legs? What—you could be the big man with a teenager who couldn't say no, but couldn't hack it against someone your own size who could fight back?" I taunted, hoping to keep him unsettled.

My brother picked up his side of the game of verbal tag. "How many other kids have you perved on? You like taking advantage of the small or the helpless? Maybe he can't get it up any other way, huh, Sam? You know, you better hope you never get arrested, Silas, 'cause do you know what they do to child molesters in the big house? They gonna make you squeal like a _pig_ , boy!"

"You shut your mouth, cunt!" Barnes reared back to punch Dean, and he let the knife slip a few inches away from my brother's throat.

Dean took immediate advantage of the lapse and sank his fangs deep into the other man's wrist, causing it to spasm open. The moment the blade hit the bed, I lunged forward, yanked Barnes back by the collar, and threw him hard against the wall by the door. As I turned to face him, I heard the sound of Velcro tearing and knew that my brother had finished freeing himself. As much as I wanted to go to him right away, I had to trust that he could take care of himself until I finished dealing with the other hunter.

I cautiously approached where Barnes was collapsed on the floor and managed to leap back in time when he lashed a foot out. He staggered to his feet and threw a wild swing, which I ducked. He grunted as I jabbed him in the gut, and I blocked the uppercut he shot in return. We exchanged several blows, until a lucky punch to the jaw staggered me back. He started to reach behind him towards the back of his waistband but froze as a click came from behind us.

"Drop it, douchebag! In case you've never heard, I'm a _damn_ good shot, and I'll have _no_ problem plugging you between your ugly fucking eyes if you try to aim that thing at Sam. So you've gotta ask yourself, 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya, punk?" my brother demanded.

When I threw a glance over my shoulder, Dean was sitting up on the bed, my pistol aimed squarely at the older man. His grip was rock-steady despite being beaten all to hell, the wound on his shoulder still leaking blood. I grinned, proud that this badass was _my_ big brother, as I drew my knife.

Barnes moved slowly as if he was about to withdraw his hand, then suddenly whipped it around and hurled his gun at Dean. He used the distraction to charge me with a roar, grabbing at the handle of my knife. I voided and seized his forearm with one hand as he went by, spinning him around and pulling him against me. I twisted his arm behind his back, binding it tightly enough to force him up on his toes to prevent a dislocated shoulder. My other hand pressed the bowie knife to his side.

I didn't hesitate. This man had injured and tried to force himself on the most important person in my life. This man had taken repeated advantage of Dean as a teen, and I doubted that was his first or only time hurting a child. And this man would make my brother a hunted pariah if he was allowed to reveal the truth to the wrong people. I drove the blade between his ribs, up under his sternum, and straight into his heart.

As I let the body fall, I heard Dean behind me say, "Sam, what have you _done_?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

I turned to my brother. "What are you talking about, Dean? I stopped him."

He looked aghast. "You _killed_ him! He was _human_ , man. We _don't_ kill _humans_!"

"The man almost _raped_ you. He _did_ stab and beat the shit out of you, and he wanted to kidnap you so he could _keep_ raping you! Not to mention that he essentially _molested_ you for a week all those years ago, and you can't tell me you think you're the only kid he's hurt! If he'd gotten away, he might've kept coming after you! Or he could've had the rest of the hunting community trying to _kill_ you!"

"No argument—the dude was a rapist cocksucker who needed to be punished. So we shoulda tied him up and left him for the authorities, like we did with Gordon or the Benders! We _don't_ go all T-1000 on his ass! We do a lotta hinky things in our line of work—B&E, theft, fraud, grave robbing, you name it. But we don't _ever_ kill _people_!" He fell back against the headboard, gasping, his face pale and eyes wide.

I took a closer look and realized his reaction was more than just shock over my actions. "Shit, Dee, I don't know what I'm thinking! Here, hold this against the wound." I grabbed a discarded towel off the floor, folded it, and pressed it against his shoulder.

Once Dean got a good grip on the towel, I pulled the medical kit from our bags, sat down next to him, and set the kit in front of me. I opened the lid, and then turned to look him in the eyes.

"I'm _not_ ashamed of what I just did. You need to understand—you mean everything to me, and there's _nothing_ I wouldn't do for you. When you died for the last time at the Mystery Spot, I almost killed _Bobby_ to bring you back. If something like _that_ would've saved you from Hell, I'd have done it in a heartbeat. And _that_ was when we were only brothers!

"Now that we're _more_ , now that we're lovers or soulmates or whatever you want to call it . . . Man, I'd burn the whole goddamn _world_ down for you! Killing that fucking waste of oxygen isn't even a blip on the radar." I leaned in and gently kissed his bloody lips.

"Sammy . . ."

Before Dean could say anything else, the doorbell rang, followed by the distinctive knocking only police officers seemed to use. I cursed. "Dammit, it must be Jody. Wait here, I'll be right back."

He nodded weakly, and I ran downstairs as the emphatic rapping was repeated. I recognized Sheriff Mills through the peephole and unlocked the door.

She started talking the moment the door started to open. "I'm so sorry to bother you both when I'm sure you're still . . . _busy_. But we received a report that a stolen vehicle had been seen turning down this way, and the suspect in the theft is also wanted in suspicion for—Whose blood is that? Are you hurt, Sam?"

I looked down at myself as I held the door open and realized that I had blood all over my hands, forearms, and shirt. I hadn't even thought about how I must look when coming to the door. I responded, "I'm fine, Jody. It's not mine. We've got—"

The sheriff didn't allow me to finish. She simply pushed past me and made a beeline up the stairs. I swore again and raced to follow her.

When I caught up to her, Jody was motionless in the bedroom doorway, taking in the scene before her. The broken door was ajar. Barnes' body was crumpled in a large pool of blood near the foot of the bed. Dean was slumped against the headboard, a fold of the sheets now covering his groin. The anal plug was next to the medical kit, as was a used syringe and the bottle of morphine from the kit. My Taurus and Barnes' knife were both lying on the other side of the bed, and the leather cuffs were still dangling from the headboard.

Dean's right eye was nearly swollen shut, and his lips were puffy and torn. A band of angry red marks circled his neck and left wrist, and more bruises, scratches, and cuts were scattered all over his body. The towel loosely clutched against his shoulder was soaked with blood, and more blood dripped down his left side. His skin was pale and clammy except for two feverish spots high on his cheeks, and his eyes were glassy. His breathing was wheezy and erratic.

Jody turned a shocked expression toward me. "What the hell happened here?"

I rushed to my brother's side. "I'll tell you everything, but can you first get some water and clean towels? I need to get Dean cleaned up so I can examine this wound."

Something was definitely wrong. Now that the silver blade was no longer in his shoulder, Dean shouldn't be in such bad shape, particularly after a shot of morphine. His pain tolerance was incredibly high, and I'd seen him react less to far worse injuries.

I applied pressure on the bloody towel with one hand and lightly patted his cheek with the other. "Dee? Dee? You still with me?"

His head lolled in my direction, and his eyes tried to focus on my face. "Don' feel so good, Sammy . . . M' shoulder's on fire, an' it's radi—radi—spreadin' from there . . . But ever'thin' else feels cold . . . Feelin' dizzy an' like 'm gonna throw up too . . ." he mumbled thickly.

I laid my hand on his forehead and then snatched it back. As elevated as his temperature had been over the past couple of days due to his heat, it now felt dangerously high. I pulled the towel away from his shoulder briefly and saw that the edges of the wound and the skin around it were inflamed.

When Jody returned moments later with a bowl of steaming water and towels, I looked at her frantically. "Something's really wrong here, Jody! But I can't take him to a hospital, not like this!"

She set the bowl and towels down near Dean's feet and patted my shoulder soothingly. "Don't panic, Sam. Let's get your brother cleaned up and the bleeding staunched, and you can give me the Cliff Notes version of what happened. Then we'll see if we can patch Dean up."

I took a shuddering breath, dipped one of the towels in the warm water, and began to wipe down my brother's skin. "Okay . . . So this hunter, Silas Barnes, came by earlier tonight with some stuff for Bobby. We'd met this guy once before years ago, when I was twelve and Dean was sixteen. Neither Bobby nor I knew though that Barnes had taken advantage of Dean sexually back then. So when Barnes figured out who we were, he conned me into letting him stay the night. While I was up in the attic looking for Bobby's air mattress, he went into our room and attacked Dean and tried to—to rape him.

"I came down before he succeeded, but he held a silver knife to Dean's throat before I could shoot him. Barnes was planning to rape my brother in front of me, then take him away so—so the sick bastard could keep raping him. But Dean managed to bite him and got him to drop the knife, then he and I fought, and I killed him. Dean got stabbed in the shoulder earlier in the attack, but he shouldn't be reacting so badly now that the silver's been taken out."

Jody finished taping a gauze pad over the wound and looked around. "Is this the blade your brother was stabbed with?" She held out Barnes' knife for inspection, showing that the tip was broken off.

I stared at the jagged end in dismay. "Shit! With everything going on, I didn't notice that before! The tip must still be in his shoulder, and that wound's too deep for me to extract it safely!"

"Call Bobby then, and see if he knows a discreet doctor. Meanwhile, I need to call this in. I've got no choice—it's one thing if it's a vampire or zombie or something, but I can't look the other way when a human being gets killed."

Dean stirred at this, weakly laying a hand on her arm. "No . . . can't send Sammy to—to jail . . ."

"Don't worry! This is a clear-cut case of self-defense. Sam won't be arrested."

I shook my head. "We still can't, Jody. First off, we can't wait around to give a statement—Dean needs medical attention _now_. And we can't let anyone run tests on him—bloodwork might reveal what he is, and a rape kit would show _my_ DNA. Plus, we're supposed to be dead!"

"Like I said, don't worry! You take care of your brother. I'll record what you just told me for now—sanitized of any supernatural elements, of course—and we can get more detailed statements from both of you later. The tests might be a problem if there had to be a trial, but Barnes can't be tried for his crimes anymore, can he? And since his death is an open-and-shut case, the department will only need to do the minimum due diligence. Particularly with me backing up your story.

"As for your faked deaths, _please_! No one here in Sioux Falls fell for that story—you two keep showing up here too regularly. No one believed the business about you being killers or bank robbers either—you boys practically grew up here, after all. And if some outsider has questions about your sudden reappearance, we'll chalk it up to mistaken identity. Now go call Bobby!"

I dialed Bobby's number and paced back and forth until the old man answered. I started talking the second he picked up. "Bobby, we need to know the location of a hunter-friendly doctor or clinic near here right away! It has to be one that can perform surgery _and_ that we can trust to keep their mouths shut about Dean."

"What the hell is going on there, Sam?" I could clearly hear the worry in his voice.

"How much do you know about the hunter that was coming over here?"

"Silas? Never worked with him personally, but I helped him with lore and agency calls, same as any other hunter. Man did always seem a bit slimy, but no more dangerous than anyone else in this business. _What happened_ , boy?"

"Barnes is dead," I stated flatly. "He tried to rape Dean, and I killed him. He stabbed Dean in the shoulder with a silver knife during the attack, and the tip of the blade broke off. It's still inside him, and the wound is too deep for me to remove it. I'll tell you more later, but right now I _need_ to get my brother help!"

"Damn! Alright, I'm gonna send you to Melissa Choi. Her dad's a hunter, and she works at a surgical center on the other side of town. She's patched me up a time or two, and I know she can keep a secret. I'll call her and tell her to meet you at the surgical center. I'll let her know I vouch for you and that she should keep an open mind, but it'll be best if you explain the situation to her in person. I'm texting you her number and the center's address now. I'm leaving first thing in the morning, so I'll be home by tomorrow afternoon." Bobby hung up, and a text notification pinged moments later.

I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and helped Dean sit up and get dressed. Jody ended her call, put on a pair of latex gloves, and began removing the leather cuffs from the headboard.

"My guys will be here shortly. I told them you have to take Dean to a specialist for medical attention. I'm going to put away the toys so they don't attract unnecessary questions. Is there anything else that should be removed from the scene?" she asked briskly.

"Um, I don't think so," I said distractedly as I pulled boots over Dean's feet. "The sheets were just washed, so the only . . . uh, DNA evidence that might be on them from before the attack would be Dean's. Most of our weapons are down in the basement or in the car except for our personal handguns, which I'll be taking with us. I'm pretty sure Bobby's got permits for all the visible weapons in the house."

"Okay, then you two get going. I'll take care of everything here. Make sure you take pictures of Dean's injuries before they're treated—we'll need them for the case file. Oh, and change your shirt first, Sam! You look like a serial killer right now."

I finished getting my brother's boots on and hurriedly cleaned myself up. I had to support most of his weight as we made our way downstairs and out to the car. He seemed barely conscious as I buckled him into the passenger seat. I threw myself behind the wheel, and gravel sprayed as the Impala shot out of the salvage yard.

The GPS put the drive to the surgical center as a forty-five-minute trip, but we made it in less than thirty. I didn't normally hold with Dean's personification of the Impala, but tonight it was almost as if the car knew he needed help. It flew down the road yet somehow managed to avoid jostling my brother around, no matter how tight the turn or rough the road.

A light was on outside a side entrance when we pulled up. I practically carried Dean inside and looked around the dimly-lit hallway. I called out, "Hello? This is Sam Winchester. Bobby Singer should've called you about my brother, Dean."

"Down the hall, then take the first right. You'll see me," a young woman's voice responded.

Dr. Choi was standing in front of an exam room, a lab coat hastily thrown over what appeared to be silk pajamas. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, and she was tiny—the top of her head didn't reach my shoulder. She was also gorgeous, the sort of woman Dean would've been all over a couple months ago. Straight black hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and large brown eyes blinked up at me owlishly.

She nodded towards the room, and I carried my brother in and carefully deposited him on the examination table. The doctor started to step forward, and then leapt back towards the door, wide eyes darting between the clawed fingers wrapped around my arms and the sharp teeth visible between his panting lips.

"The hell! You brought a _werewolf_ here? Are you _insane_?" she shouted.

"Not . . . not a we—were, doc." Dean lifted his head and grimaced, and his appearance shifted to fully human.

"He's right. He's what's called a shapeshifter, and he's not a threat to anyone here. He's also a hunter and my brother. And no, I'm human just like you," I said. "Can you _please_ help us? Dean is a _good_ man, and he means everything in the world to me."

She looked back and forth between Dean and I and then sighed. "Bobby said you could be trusted. He wouldn't have sent you here if either of you were a danger, especially given my family's history with werewolves. So . . . okay. What's the matter with your . . . brother?"

I pulled a chair next to the exam table, sat, and took one of Dean's hands in my own. "He was attacked by another hunter tonight. Not because he's a shifter—the asshole was trying to sexually assault Dean. Dean was stabbed in the shoulder with a silver knife, and the tip broke off in the wound. It's beyond my skills to remove it without causing more damage.

"Shifters have the same fatal reaction as weres to silver. The fragment isn't in a life-threatening location, but apparently extended exposure is deadly too, just slower. He's been going downhill fast since the stabbing, so that thing needs to come out very soon."

Dr. Choi put on a pair of latex gloves and started examining my brother. "I've obviously never treated someone who wasn't human before. So I need to know what his baseline stats are compared to the symptoms from the injury."

"Sure, okay. Um . . . his normal temperature is just under one-oh-one, though it's been running at around one-oh-four the past two days because he's been in, uh, heat. His respiration and pulse rates are usually a little higher than the human norm, twenty to twenty-five per minute and eighty to one-twenty per respectively. They all seem significantly faster right now, though I haven't had time to measure them. He said before that he's feeling dizzy and nauseous. His pupils are currently constricted due to the morphine he took for the pain." I squeezed my brother's hand as he whimpered and his form lapsed.

"As you said, everything is elevated—temp is one-oh-seven point eight, respiration thirty-two, pulse one-fifty-four. His blood pressure is eighty over forty-five, which I'm going to assume is low for him as well as for a human. His symptoms seem like a mix of anaphylaxis and infection. I see a lot of bruising and minor abrasions, particularly on his throat and thighs, but the shoulder is the only serious injury. Do you know if he was actually . . . raped?"

"Thank God, no. He did have consensual intercourse earlier in the day though, so you will find semen if you do an anal exam. Sheriff Mills didn't think they'd need bloodwork or a rape kit though, just photos."

"Alright." She finished writing her notes and looked up at me. "I need to X-ray his shoulder and then prep him for surgery. You're going to have to assist, since I can't bring one of the regular nurses in on this. Can you do more than standard first aid?"

"Both of us have the equivalent of field medic training. Our dad was a Marine in Vietnam, and we usually have to patch each other up," I explained.

"That'll have to do. Go down the hall and to the left and bring back a gurney. Oh, does he have any reactions to medication that I should be aware of?"

"I don't think he's allergic to anything. He does generally need about one-and-a-half times the normal dose of pain medication due to his faster metabolism. I'll be right back." I left to get the gurney.

The surgery fortunately went quickly and without complications. My assistance mostly consisted of handing instruments to the doctor and keeping the wound clear. Dean's vitals began to improve as soon as the shard of silver was removed, though it would still be a while before he recovered completely. Once the wound was stitched up and the rest of his injuries tended to, we wheeled him into the recovery room to wait for the anesthetic to wear off. I sat by his bed, both of my hands wrapped around one of his, and watched him breathe.

Dr. Choi suddenly spoke up. "If you don't mind my asking, how did you end up with a shapeshifter for a brother?"

I didn't shift my gaze from my brother's face as I replied. "My mom and older brother were killed by a demon when I was a baby, which is what got my dad into hunting. A few months after their deaths, he found a shapeshifter child about the same age as my brother and got the shifter kid to take his place. Dad trained both of us to be hunters, and I didn't know the whole truth until just recently. I couldn't ask for a better brother though—he's the one who really raised me, and he's always taken care of me and had my back."

"And you both hunt monsters together? Even though he . . . err—"

"Even though he is one, at least by some people's definition? Yeah, we've been hunting together since I left college, and he hunted with our dad or on his own before that. We've even taken down other shifters that were hurting people. Dean's an amazing hunter, one of the best, and he does it because he really wants to help people. He's a better person than a lot of true humans."

I turned my head to look at her. "How about you, doctor? You mentioned a history with werewolves, and Bobby said you could be trusted to keep our secret."

"Please, call me Melissa." She paused in thought before continuing. "I'd just finished my freshman year of college and was home for the summer. My younger brother was out camping with some friends when he got bit by something. The park rangers said it had to be a wild dog because there weren't supposed to be wolves in the area. So he got a rabies shot, and no one thought any more of it.

"Then the next full moon came, and he changed. He killed our mom, ripped her heart out, and then he ran. My dad and I were devastated and of course had no clue about what was going on. Bobby showed up a few days later and explained what happened. My dad . . . losing both his wife and his son like that broke something inside him. He gave up his engineering firm in order to track down my brother, and somewhere along the way became a hunter full-time.

"As for keeping secrets . . . My dad did find my brother, but he just couldn't kill him. Brian's living somewhere in northern Saskatchewan now, over a hundred miles from any human habitation. He goes to the nearest town about once a month for supplies and spends the rest of the time alone. He spends the nights of the full moon in a panic room in the basement of his cabin with a time-lock on the door. I send him money and try to visit him at least a couple of times a year, as does Dad. He was going to be an engineer like our dad before he got bit." She fell silent.

"I'm so sorry, Melissa. I can imagine how difficult this has been for your family."

"No one involved in hunting ever has a happy story, do they? I try not to dwell on it too much, since that doesn't change anything." She gave herself a brisk shake. "So, did you handle it well? Learning the truth about Dean, I mean?"

"No, I'm afraid I freaked out pretty badly at first when I found out. I think I was more upset that he and my dad had been hiding it from me for so long though. But Dean means too much to me, so I got over it. We're actually doing so much better since then."

"Have you two been a couple for long?" At my startled glance, she added, "The way you act around him and talk about him, it's more like a spouse than a sibling. Don't worry, I'm not going to out you or anything. Having a werewolf for a brother makes you reevaluate your priorities. As far as I'm concerned, love is love."

"Wow, thanks! Uh, no, we've only been together like that for a few weeks. Since the night I found out that he's a shifter. But I've been in love with him for over half my life. I'd do anything for him, and he'd do the same for me."

"You're lucky to have each other." Melissa stood and patted my shoulder. "I'm going to finish cleaning up the OR. You stay here with your brother until he wakes up. When he does, I'll check his vitals again, and if everything continues to improve, you should be able to take him home. Holler if you need me."

After she left the room, I decided to call the sheriff. "Hi, Jody. Dean's out of surgery, and he's doing much better. I'm just waiting for him to wake up, and then hopefully we'll be back at Bobby's soon. Are you still there?"

"Hey, Sam! Glad to hear Dean's doing better. We left just a little while ago, although someone's on their way to clean up the blood and mess. By the time you get back, your bedroom should be usable. I'll come over tomorrow afternoon to see how you're doing and get your official statements, if that's okay with you," Jody replied.

"Tomorrow afternoon should be fine; Dean should be up for talking by then. Hey, when you first came over, you started talking about a stolen vehicle and Barnes being wanted for other crimes?"

"Oh, yeah. I had one of my guys keeping an eye on the traffic cams in your area since yesterday afternoon, figuring you two might be a bit vulnerable under the circumstances. He caught a stolen vehicle heading your way, and the suspect in the theft, one Silas Barnes, had a number of open warrants that concerned me. Besides the usual small stuff that you hunters seem to rack up, he was wanted for several counts of solicitation, statutory rape, assault, and sexual assault. The fact that he had a history of sexual violence should help prove that his killing was justifiable. I just wish I could've gotten there sooner, before it had to come to that."

"Don't feel bad. You've done so much to help us the past couple of days. I'll talk to you tomorrow. The doctor should be sending over the photos you need tomorrow as well."

"You take it easy then. I'll call Bobby for you and let him know how you're doing."

"Thanks, Jody. See you later."

As I hung up, I noticed that Dean's eyes were open, though he looked somewhat disoriented. I took his hand again. "Hey, Dee! How are you feeling?"

"Like I got fucking run over, though now it's less by Optimus Prime and more like by Bumblebee." His voice was hoarse, probably due to the bruising on his throat. "Is there something to drink around here?"

"Here, take this." I handed him a plastic cup of ice water. "Beetle Bumblebee or Camaro Bumblebee?"

He took a long slurp on the straw before responding. "VW Beetle, of course! None of that movie garbage, dude!"

I grinned—my brother was obviously feeling better. "Wait here while I get the doctor. She wants to check you out one last time, and then hopefully we can go home."

"Hand me my clothes before you go. I ain't meeting the hot doctor lady with my ass hanging outta a damn hospital gown!"

I passed him his sweatpants. "Don't strain your shoulder putting these on. And try not to embarrass the both of us in front of Dr. Choi."

"Hey! You're . . . embarrassing!" Dean huffed as I left the room.

Melissa was putting away the last of the equipment when I found her in the operating room. She looked up as I walked in. "Is your brother awake now?"

"Yeah, and he seems a lot more like his usual self now. I'd like to take him home soon, if everything checks out."

"There's something I want to discuss with you in private first. You need to keep an eye on Dean, because regardless of how he might act, he's _not_ going to be alright, not right away. Attempted rape can be just as traumatic as actual rape for some, and sexual assault of any kind can be even harder in some ways for male victims. It affects people in different ways—fear, anger, depression, guilt, distrust, and more. I recommend you look up rape trauma syndrome so you know what to expect. He's going to need you to be strong and supportive for him while he recovers." She looked at me soberly.

I took a deep breath. "I understand. I doubt he'll accept any kind of professional counseling, but I'll make sure he takes _my_ help. Thanks for the advice. I think the sooner I can get him home, the better it'll be for him."

"Let's get him checked out then." She led the way back to the recovery room.

Dean was sitting up and wearing the sweatpants instead of the hospital gown when we came in. He smiled at the doctor. "Hey, thanks, doc. You seriously saved my bacon. That little piece of silver really messed me up."

She smiled back. "I'm glad to have been able to help. Now one last bit of poking and prodding, and then let's get you out of here.

"Your stats continue to improve, which is good," she said after a few minutes. "I want you to use this sling to reduce the strain on your shoulder while it heals. And here is a script for Percocet if you need it. Call me if you have any problems. I'll leave you to finish getting dressed and close up behind you.

"Oh, and don't worry, I'll be transcribing these notes. The version that will stay here and the one that will go to the police will reflect numbers more in line with a human patient. The originals will go home with me and get locked up with the other unusual records I've accumulated from treating Bobby and his friends."

"Thanks again, Melissa," I said before kneeling to help Dean get his boots back on.

I'd watched closely while the doctor checked Dean's vitals. While he was friendly and responded to her questions openly, he made no attempt to flirt at all. And though he didn't quite flinch whenever she touched him, he did hold himself rigid and still while her hands were on him. His eyes were wide and staring the whole time, and he startled at any sudden noise or movement. Melissa was right—my brother was _not_ okay.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Dean was quiet on the ride home, though I was relieved that he didn't stiffen or pull away when I helped him to the car and then into the house and up the stairs. In our room, the only remaining evidence of the attack was the splintered doorframe and a damp spot on the floor. The bed was newly made, and the windows were open to lessen the smell of bleach.

I looked at my brother. "Are you going to be alright being in here, or should I make up a bed in one of the other rooms?"

He wrinkled his nose at the faint chlorine-like odor but shook his head. "Nah, I should be okay. We've had a lotta good memories in this room, and I ain't gonna let one shitty night ruin that." He shakily walked to the bed and sat down.

After I got him settled in, I picked up my pillow. Before I could move away, he seized my wrist and demanded, "Where the hell are _you_ going?"

"I was going downstairs to sleep on the couch or maybe set up the air mattress. I—I thought you wouldn't want anyone that close to you right now," I hastily explained as his brows drew together.

He snorted. "Stop thinking and c'mere." He tugged on my arm until I stripped down to my t-shirt and boxers and crawled in beside him.

Once I was lying down, Dean continued. "You don't hafta pull that self-sacrificing crap with _me_. And before you say it, _no_ , I ain't trying to repress anything. I know I ain't gonna be fine after this, that I'm gonna be twitchy and have bad dreams and all that sorta shit for a while. But the hell if I'm gonna let this fucking thing hurt _us_! So as long as _you_ still wanna be here, I want you beside me."

"I'm not going anywhere, Dee," I said without hesitation.

"Okay, good." He curled up against my side. "I know we both really wanna crash right now, but there're a coupla things we need to clear up first.

"First off, I don't want you to be blaming yourself for what happened tonight. I know you—you've already come up with fifteen different reasons why you think this is all your damn fault. You need to stop that shit _right now_! You ain't responsible for what went wrong. In fact, things woulda been a whole _hell_ of a lot worse if not for you."

"But it _was_ my fault!" I argued. "If I'd made him leave like I was fucking supposed to, or if I'd told you who he was, or if I hadn't left you alone, _none_ of this would've happened! And then when I saw what he was doing to you, I froze! If you hadn't made him drop the knife, I don't know how bad it would've gotten!"

"Stop it, baby boy! There's no way you coulda known what was gonna happen. We're used to giving other hunters the benefit of the doubt, and we forget that humans can be fucking monsters too. Besides, are you gonna accuse Bobby of letting that fuckwad come over while we were here, or Jody of not checking on us sooner? Well, you're no more responsible than they are!"

"Of course I don't hold Bobby or Jody responsible! They weren't here, and I _was_! I knew something was off about that guy, but I was too focused on being _nice_. And because of that, you got hurt! I almost _lost_ you!" I shouted.

"Calm down, Sam! I'm still here. Maybe you made a mistake, but you didn't _know_. You ain't—"

"It's not that easy!" I paused as something occurred to me. "Dean? You didn't include yourself among the people who aren't to blame for this."

Dean hunched in on himself. "That—that's _different_! I shoulda listened to you and taken the damn cuffs off when you told me that he was staying. But _no_ , I decided to leave 'em on and rub another one out first with the goddamn butt plug instead like a fucking _dumbass_. He heard me moaning, and—and that's when he came in. And then I shoulda been able to fight him off, not let myself get taken down like some weak _bitch_. And then he was holding me down, and—and he was saying—"

"Oh, Dee . . ." I wrapped my arms around him, hoping he'd accept the embrace. "This was _not_ your fault! The damn hormones from your heat were probably clouding your judgement and slowing your reflexes. And yet you still managed to get partway free and fought back—I saw the marks on him! And _nothing_ he said about you was true!"

"But it _was_ , Sammy." His green eyes were wet as he looked up at me. "I _was_ a whore—I did sell myself for money, and to more guys than I can remember, not just him. An—and before you, I _was_ a fucking slut, giving it out to anyone with a hot cock or pussy. This wasn't the first time someone tried to force me, though no one else got so close. So there's gotta be _something_ —the way I look, or how I tease and lead 'em on, or—or something else that makes people think—"

"God, no!" I interrupted. "There is _nothing_ you did to deserve to get attacked! You sold yourself when you were a teen because you _had_ to in order to support the two of us. And despite how I might've ragged on you before, how many people you slept with in the past doesn't matter either. You don't think that a girl deserves to be assaulted because of how she looks or what she's wearing or even if she's being promiscuous, right? Well, the same damn thing applies to _you_!

"The _only_ person who should be held accountable for tonight is the fucker who attacked you! You didn't do anything to instigate this—I think he planned to go after you the moment he knew you were here. He had a history of violence and sex crimes—Jody told me there were open warrants out on him for all sorts of shit like that. He was a pervert and a rapist, and this is all on _him_ , not you!"

"I can get what you're saying up here, man," Dean said, tapping the side of his head. "But the rest of me feels worthless and—and dirty and w—weak, and that shit ain't gonna just fucking go away! I dunno how to stop that . . ."

"Then listen to me! You're _not_ any of those things! You're my family, the love of my life, and my partner in every way. Not to mention the best hunter I know and a truly _good_ man. You fought Barnes off with a Crocodile Dundee-sized silver pigsticker in your shoulder, and you were _totally_ badass when you held the gun on him. You're the Righteous Man, and _nothing_ that asswipe or anyone else can do will take that away. The only person who's dirty and disgusting is Barnes, and _he's_ getting what he deserves right now in Hell."

My brother flinched at the last word, and his complexion grew even paler. His eyes turned dark and horror-stricken, and I realized that look had been showing up more and more frequently since he woke up at the surgical center.

"Dee? What's wrong? Oh, God . . . Were you—were you . . . Did they rape you in Hell?" I felt sick.

He nodded and trembled. "Over and over and over . . . Usually several demons at a time . . . Sometimes they'd be ripping into me with the knives at the same time they were—were . . ." His breathing stuttered as tears began streaking his face.

"Oh my fucking God! Dean, baby . . ." I pulled him against me and pressed my lips into his hair. "You never mentioned this before when you told me about your time . . . _there_."

"'Cause I _buried_ those fucking memories as far down as I could when I got out and then threw myself into as much booze and sex as possible to make sure I forgot! But after wh—what happened tonight, they're coming _back_ , an—and I—I can't push 'em down again . . ." His shoulders shook as he sobbed into my chest.

I rocked him and rubbed his back, feeling helpless. The only other time I'd ever seen my big brother anywhere near this upset was the night I discovered he was a shapeshifter, when he nearly ate a silver bullet because he thought I wanted nothing more to do with him. I couldn't afford to let things get _that_ bad again.

"It's okay, just let it all out. I'm so, so sorry for all the godawful things that happened to you." I tilted his head up to look into his reddened eyes. "But you're not alone in this anymore. I'm _never_ going to leave you, no matter how bad it gets. I love you, and _nothing_ is going to change that. You were strong enough to survive everything Hell threw at you, and I know you're strong enough now to survive this. And if you can't believe in yourself, then trust me instead, and trust that we'll get through this together."

"I'll—I'll try, Sammy. But n—no promises . . ." He buried his tear-streaked face back in my shoulder.

"I know, Dee. This is going to take time." I stroked his hair soothingly. "But I'll be there with you _every_ step of the way. You can come to me whenever you need to talk or cry or scream or whatever. And tell me if something I'm doing isn't helping or is making you feel worse. I won't be upset, no matter what. Like right now—are you sure you're alright with me holding you?"

My brother lifted his head. "Ye—yeah, this is good. It didn't feel right when the doc was touching me earlier, even though I knew she wasn't doing anything bad. But it's different with you. I still want _you_ to touch me, hug me, kiss me. I dunno if I'll be up for more than that anytime soon, but you holding me like this makes me feel better."

"I'm glad. We can take things as slow as you need. But you've got to tell me if I do anything you don't like." I kissed him gently and waited for the last of his tears to subside. "What's the other thing you want to discuss?"

"Uh, yeah." He wiped his face with a corner of the sheet and took a deep, calming breath. "It's 'bout what you did to Barnes. I ain't mad at you or anything. We all were pumped with adrenaline, and you had to make a split-second decision. But that shit _can't_ happen again. I don't care how evil the sonofabitch is, killing humans is a line we _can't_ goddamn cross.

"Our jobs, our lives, are supposed to be 'bout helping people, saving people. We _can't_ turn into the Punisher and start killing 'em, no matter how justified we might think it is. I mean, we don't even kill other _monsters_ if they ain't hurt nobody. If we start killing humans, even if they deserve it, how're we different from the things we hunt?"

I stiffened and dropped my arms. "Aren't you being rather hypocritical? What about what you did to Walt and Roy?"

"Dude, I didn't _kill_ those dumbasses! How would they spread the word not to mess with us if they're fucking dead? Like you said, I put the fear of God in 'em, but they walked away. Well, crawled away—the rules are somewhat fuzzy on the subject of kneecaps." He paused, and his face brightened. "Hey, do you realize that you sent that sonofabitch to the very special level of Hell?"

I frowned down at him. "Really, Dean?"

"What, it's true!" His expression grew serious again. "Listen, it's one thing if you had no other choice, if your only option was to kill him to save one of us. But despite what Jody thinks, we both know this _wasn't_ self-defense. He didn't have a weapon in his hands, and you had him under control. You coulda disabled him or used his own damn cuffs on him, and then let the fucking justice system show what happens to scumbags like him."

"What if he'd talked?"

"You mean 'bout me? If he talked to the cops, they'd just think he's looney tunes. If he did somehow manage to tell other hunters, so what?" Dean shrugged. "It'd be his word against ours. Once this heat shit is over and I'm back in control of myself, he'd have no fucking proof. Same thing goes if he tried to talk 'bout _us_.

"Listen, I ain't saying all this just to bust your stones. It's for your safety too, baby boy. We already got too many dudes after our damn asses, some of 'em other hunters. We don't need to give people even _more_ fucking reasons to want us dead."

"I still don't regret killing him. He _hurt_ you, and whenever he got out of prison—assuming he even got convicted in the first place—he could've kept trying to hurt you _or_ hurt someone else. I've lost you too many times before, and I'm _not_ going to stand by anymore and let it happen again. If it puts me more at risk, that's a price I'm willing to pay to keep you safe. I meant what I said before—I'll do _anything_ for you!" I stated.

"Sam, I know you mean well, but I _don't_ want you to do this kinda shit for me, man!" he insisted. "We're hunters—being in danger is part of the fucking job description. I certainly ain't worth killing other people over! You _gotta_ promise to dial this back."

"I don't agree that you're not worth killing over, big brother. But for your sake, I promise to be more careful." I kissed him again.

Dean didn't look convinced, but he didn't need an argument right now. I noticed him grimacing as he tried to get comfortable, so I asked, "How are you feeling? Do you need something for the pain?"

"Wouldn't say no. The small shit is starting to heal up, but my shoulder's hurting like a bitch. Think the stuff the doc gave me earlier is wearing off."

"Okay. You shouldn't take anything on an empty stomach, so wait here."

I padded downstairs and returned with a banana and glass of apple juice. Dean made a face at the fruit but ate it without protest before swallowing the pills I gave him with half of the juice. I threw the banana skin in the bathroom trash can and quickly checked the dressings on his wounds.

He rested his head on my shoulder after I slid back into bed. "Thanks, Sammy. Though now I gotta wait for this stuff to kick in 'fore I can fall asleep."

"It's okay. I can stay up a little longer until you do." I curled an arm around his waist. "So . . . I was right earlier, wasn't I? Dad found out what Barnes had done to you when he got back all those years ago."

He looked startled at the sudden shift in topic. "What? Oh, yeah. I dunno what tipped him off back then, though the motel manager might've noticed something. Think she saw the bastard coming outta our room before you got back from school too many times and maybe told Dad.

"Anyways, Dad came to talk to me right after Barnes took off. He wanted to know what was going on. I was fucking _terrified_ , and I didn't wanna tell him the truth. But he still had the asshole's blood on his fists, and I could tell he'd know if I tried to lie. So I laid it all out for him.

"How the money he left us hadn't been enough, not with how long he'd been gone—how he _never_ fucking gave us enough. How I tried to make it stretch longer by only eating once a day and then not at all, so there'd always be something for you. How I _had_ to find a way to get us enough to survive when it ran out, but I couldn't leave you alone long enough to work and was too damn young to get into pool or card games without him. How I couldn't risk getting caught stealing again and leaving you by yourself, especially not when I'd _just_ gotten back after being sent away for two months.

"How _all_ I had left was to sell myself to support my little brother, 'cause he wasn't fucking there to do it. How I'd had to do _that_ too many damn times over the years 'cause he kept leaving us, leaving _me_ , in the same shit. And how when his hunting buddy, his fucking _friend_ , found out what was going on, he didn't try to stop me or help us. How he _used_ me over and over during that week just like all the other goddamn johns.

"By the time I was done, I was in fucking tears. And convinced that he was gonna beat the shit outta me, 'cause he'd always made his opinion of 'faggots' pretty damn clear. Do you know what he did then? He _cried_. He hugged me and apologized for putting me through that, and he promised it would never happen again. And he kept his word—he made sure to give us enough or come back in time after that." He took a hitched breath.

I put my arms around my brother again. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that when we were kids, and I _hate_ that Dad put you in that position. I didn't know at the time what was going on, and it took me years to figure what you'd done for me back then. Wish I'd shown you sooner how much it meant to me, that you gave so much up for me."

"Woulda done all that and more to have kept you safe and healthy, baby brother. Would do it for you now if I had to." He put his hand against the side of my face.

"I don't want you to _ever_ have to again, Dee. Never want you to hurt yourself for me." His eyes fluttered closed as I kissed him deeply, and he brought his other hand up to cradle my face as he returned my kiss.

I was laying my head back on the pillow when something Dean said struck me. "Wait, you got sent away for stealing? I remember you being gone for a couple of months that year. Dad said you got lost on a hunt. He left me at Bobby's place while he went to go look for you, and I was frantic with worry until you came back."

"Oh, that? Nah, I got busted trying to use the five-finger-discount at the local market to grab some PB and bread. They sent me to this boys' home—it was a farm run by this dude named Sonny."

"And it took Dad two months to find you there?"

"Hell no, he knew right away! Told the police to lemme rot in jail 'cause he thought I lost the money he'd left us in a card game or something. I didn't wanna tell him that the money hadn't been enough _again_ , and that what was left got stolen by a john who beat me up. Told Sonny the bruises were from a werewolf hunt."

I was shocked. I'd never had a high opinion of Dad's parenting skills, but this . . . "And the bastard just _left_ you there?"

"Yeah, ain't that a bitch? He thought I needed to be taught a lesson in _responsibility_ or some crap. Don't look like that, man! It wasn't that bad. Sonny turned out to be pretty cool, and he looked out for me. I did real well at the school there, made the wrestling team, even got a girlfriend for the first time. Sonny made me his foreman on the farm, and he offered to try to convince Dad to lemme stay when the old man finally came to get me."

"Why _didn't_ you stay then?"

"Couldn't leave _you_ , of course! Though . . . being there was the first time I think I realized there could be more than just hunting. I remember talking to Robin, my girl there, about being a mechanic. One of the things I did on the farm was help maintain the machinery. And you know how much I like taking care of Baby."

"No one ever thinks about how you might've wanted something else out of life, do they? Me included. Knowing this now though—why didn't you come with me to Stanford when I asked? You could've easily gone to school for mechanical engineering. You've always been so good with machines—you're the one that builds and takes care of our EMF meters and other gadgets."

"You honestly think Stanford woulda taken a drop-out loser like me?" he scoffed. "I _did_ wanna come with you, Sammy. But Dad still needed me. Or at least I _thought_ he did, 'til he eventually left me behind to hunt down the demon by himself. By then you and me'd had that big fight, so I wasn't gonna force myself on you."

"Oh Dee . . ." I hugged him tightly. "I can't imagine how shitty you must've felt when he abandoned you at the boys' home and then again later when I was at college. Not to mention that this was after I'd already walked out on you!

"And _don't_ talk about yourself like that! You only dropped out because Dad made you, because he convinced you that school was a waste of time for a hunter. You always did well when you tried, at least when you weren't too busy taking care of us and helping Dad to actually have time for schoolwork. Even if you couldn't get into Stanford, there were a ton of other colleges in the area."

"That's all in the past, Sam. I told you before, I know you're not gonna leave me again, and _that's_ what matters now. And think what you want 'bout Dad's choices, but I still got a much better life outta the deal than any other shifter." Dean's eyelids started to droop.

"Percocet finally kicking in?" I asked.

"Yeah—think I can get some sleep now. Tomorrow I might do a full shift to heal up, but I'm too beat to try at the moment. I _really_ hope this heat crap is on its way out soon though. Right now, between how sore my entire fucking body is and how loopy the meds are making me, I couldn't get it up if my fucking life depended on it. But I dunno what I'm gonna do later if the damn hormones take over again."

"We'll figure something out," I assured him. "We've got the toys, and I'll do as much or as little as you're comfortable with. Bobby will be home soon too, and maybe he'll have an idea how to get your heat under control."

"Thanks, Sammy. I—I want you to know this ain't 'bout _you_ —it ain't that I'm afraid of you or don't trust you or anything. It just feels like—like what happened tonight and—and back in Hell left me covered in—in shit or something, and it'll contaminate you too if—if you touch me like that. I'd spend forever in the fucking shower scrubbing my damn skin off if I had the energy, but it won't help. An—and I _know_ you're not going anywhere, I really do, but there's still this little voice trying to tell me that you deserve better than—"

"Shh, shh. Stop that, Dee." I picked up his hands and pressed a kiss onto first the knuckles and then the palms of each one. "You know that's not true, right? You're not filthy or disgusting or any of the things that douche-nozzle said. You're beautiful and strong and brave and _awesome_ , and that cocksucker or even all the demons in Hell can't ever sully you.

"And don't worry about me. I'll wait for you as long as it takes, even if it's weeks or months or longer. I told you before that I would do anything for you, and that applies _here_ too. Whatever you need to recover, I'll be here for. It's you and me together, big brother, and _nothing_ is going to change that."


End file.
